Goblin Fever and the Greyflood
by LRoseC
Summary: Fili and Kili escort a caravan through the mountains when they're attacked by goblins. All is not well with Kili, but slave mongers capture him before Fili can find out what's wrong. Now Kili must protect his friends long enough for his family to find them while Fili fears his brother won't last long enough to be found. NO SLASH! Just Bro Feels. Some Fili Whump. Kili Whump galore.
1. The Caravan

_Why hello! For all intents and purposes, by human-maturity standards Fíli is 19-20 and Kíli's 17-18. In reality that puts them at 49, and 44 respectively. _

_Also, this is Pre Bifur-has-an-axe-in-his-head. Maybe we'll find out how that happened! *Thunder crash for effect*  
_

_This is my first time writing on a Tolkien; so if there's some law of Middle Earth that I neglect or something, let me know!_

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**1**

**The Caravan**

"Hey! Catch!"

Fíli spun around just in time to snatch an apple that was sailing for his head. He raised his eyebrows at Kíli's impish grin, still feeling the sting of the apple's impact on his palm.

"You looked hungry," he explained, shrugging his shoulders. Fíli's eyebrows stayed up.

"The back of my head looked hungry?"

Kíli just smiled wider until his brother eventually bit the apple and turned around, shooting one more warning glance in his direction.

Around them the dozens of covered wagons creaked and groaned against the dirt road of the mountain path. A caravan of merchants was carrying their cargo to the northern sect of the Blue Mountains where Thorin and several other dwarves were temporarily employed in a town that Kíli couldn't remember the name of. From what he could gather, there was going to be a festival there in the coming months to honor some fancy lord for some reason or another. Honestly, at the time it was explained Kíli was eating. And it's always difficult for Kíli to listen when he's eating, _especially_ when the food is good. And it was.

Apparently.

But what was really important was that the merchants needed to be escorted to the northern sect, and since the more seasoned dwarves were either already at the destination or covering for those who were gone, the task fell to the younger generation of dwarves to take on. Being that they had just recently celebrated Fíli's 49th birthday, this was the first real mission the boys were entrusted with without their uncle or mother present. It was a chance for them and their peers to prove themselves to their elders. It was a shot at freedom. It was an adventure. It was…

Well, it was dusty.

Really nothing more exciting than a broken axel had yet happened, a task that they were all a little too over qualified for. Gimli insisted that they weld a new spike to keep the wheels attached to the axel, while Ori insisted they needed to use rope to bind the broken ends together. Kíli wanted to use glue. Fíli wanted to use the perfectly good spare axel the merchants brought with them incase such a predicament would occur. The disagreement came to blows, so in the end they used the glue, rope, _and_ a roughly hammered spike to repair the wagon they destoryed, and replaced the axel with the spare.

"Everyone wins," Kíli had said, throwing his hands into the air when their task was complete. He got a face full of mud for that.

The merchants seemed not to be bothered by the dwarves, however annoyingly eager they may be. Most of them were just happy to have able and willing protection against the goblins that were rumored to inhabit the mountain pass.

All except one, a large man named Brent. His section of the caravan seemed hard and quiet in comparison to the rest of the group. Whereas many of the wagons were adorned with colorful fabrics and golden trim, Brent's clan moved in shades of brown and gray. They didn't play music or sing songs; they merely glared ahead at the road. Kíli once expressed how they unnerved him to Fíli, who seemed to agree.

"Oi, laddie, gimme a hand!" Bofur called to Kíli. Bofur and his cousin Bifur were amongst the merchant party so that Bifur could deliver his coveted toys to the north. Their wagon was compact and covered with assorted sheets that were roughly stitched together to form a comical patchwork that suited the pair just fine.

"What do you need?" Kíli asked, watching with a smirk as Bofur shoved all his weight into the back of the wagon and pushed until he turned red.

"Wheel's stuck," he grunted, giving up his push. "Let's lift it up, shall we?"

Kíli nodded and slipped his hands under the wagon, waiting for Bofur's cue. "Ready?" he called from the other side.

"Ready!"

"Okay…one, two, three, _lift!"_

The two huffed and puffed until the wagon's wheel bumped over the large crack with a sudden lurch. Kíli stumbled backwards until his back collided with something solid.

"What the—" he twisted around and realized that he had fallen against someone's legs. A _tall_ someone. Someone who did not look entirely pleased to see him.

Brent's oversized hand grasped the back of Kíli's jerkin and hoisted the boy to his feet and then some. Fíli—who had been watching the ordeal—visibly tensed when Kíli's feet left the ground. But they returned to it a moment later, and the only damage done was to Kíli's pride and the neckline of his shirt.

"Pardon me, Brent," Kíli grumbled, rubbing his neck grudgingly. The large man grunted in reply and moved forward a few paces to escape the whelp.

"He _is_ charming," Millí commented from beside him, crossing her arms over her chest. Millí was Ori's cousin and protector, since the boy tended to lean towards scrolls and books rather than knives and axes. She had gold hair, green eyes, and a substantial beard that she kept in fine beaded braids laced with feathers. Kíli absent-mindedly rubbed his whiskery chin whenever she made an appearance.

"Delightful," Fíli contributed, coming to walk beside them. He tossed a new apple to his brother as a gesture of goodwill and then tossed his core off the path. "Hello Millí, you're beard's looking especially magnificent today."

"I wish I could say the same for you," she said back, tugging on the small braided mustache Fíli was so fond of. Kíli laughed at that, which only got him a look from both of the fair-haired dwarrows. "Like you should be laughing!"

They walked together in comfortable silence until the sun set and the merchants started whispering about making camp. Then Gimli appeared before them, smiling widely through his thick red whiskers. "Aye you three!" he called to the brothers and Millí. His eyes lingered on the female dwarf a little longer than necessary before he continued. "Come meet Ori and me up at the Bortly wagon, they've got the ale out and—"

Gimli was suddenly pummeled from the side by a horrible gangly creature, eliciting a simultaneous cry from his companions.

"GOBLINS!" Bofur shouted and terrible screeches rang out through the night. The caravan switched into action, children ducking into wagons and everyone else either drawing swords or calming the livestock. Kíli took a moment to marvel at their organization when Fíli crashed into him from the side.

"Oi!" the younger grunted, twisting around to see a goblin at the end of Fíli's sword, baring its teeth. With a clumsy twist of his blade, the older dwarf managed to pull the blade from its gut and take off its head.

Goblins were pouring from the trees around them, seeming to appear out of nowhere in particular. Fíli managed to roll off of Kíli and lurch towards Gimli, only to find that Millí had already defeated the goblin that attacked him.

"I have to find Ori!" she exclaimed before taking off into the chaos. Gimli was instantly on his feet and tearing his axe off his back, nearly hitting Fíli in the process.

"I'm goin' to go help her," he grimaced, sprinting into the crowd.

"Just don't accidentally murder her," the blonde prince grumbled.

A few paces back, Kíli had decided that the time for his bow had passed and was now wielding the large sword his uncle had given him not five years ago. It was clumsy work, but he managed to slay two goblins that were going for the wagons.

"You should clean up your foot work!" Fíli called, slashing a goblin across the gut.

"And you should raise your elbows!" the younger called back.

* * *

Roughly an hour later Kíli momentarily stopped fighting to watch his brother. Fíli seemed to be holding his own with his twin blades, but goblins were pouring in from the trees in a steady stream and it was all becoming overwhelming. Most of the merchants who took up weapons were beginning to feel the fatigue setting in and could barely wipe the sweat out of their eyes before having to raise their sword again. The children who were too old to hide and too young to fight sat on top of the wagons and fired arrows into the night with questionable accuracy. The amount of good they actually did was lost when they ran out of arrows.

Kíli growled and slammed his sword into the chest of another greyish beast, flinching away from the blood that splattered his face. He pivoted and raised his arm in time to deflect a whip that was meant for his back. He glared at the goblin holding the handle and then grunted as another body slammed into him from behind.

Instantly the dark haired dwarf lost his footing and went sprawling down the short side of the cliff until he collided with a bundle of scraggly trees. Whatever had hit him didn't follow down the slope.

The sound of the battle raged just above Kili, but all around him was peaceful quiet. It created an eerie sensation in his stomach. He was just in the thick of that horrible noise, and now he's not, and no one seemingly noticed. It would be so easy to lay low until it was over.

_Uncle Thorin won't be able to help you this time, _Kíli realized. They were alone, completely and utterly alone. If they failed the caravan now then there would be no way to redeem themselves and no one else to blame.

_Wait...how did I get here?_

He was back in the campground amongst the flailing goblins and shouting fighters. His sword was held slack beside him and his bow trampled into the mud where he'd originally been tackled.

"Kíli!'

Fíli's cry echoed over the noise of the battle but it was too late. Searing pain cut through the younger's shoulder, causing him to cry out. Then, realizing he was being taste-tested, the dark-haired dwarf ducked forward to his knees, sending the biting goblin sailing overtop of him. It landed heavily on its back and writhed until it was crouched before him, baring its bloody teeth menacingly. Kíli had never seen a goblin with such a wide mouth before. It leaped at him but this time he was ready and skewered the creature with his knife.

After that the battle was quicker work. The merchants and dwarves worked together to defeat the string of goblins that were assaulting their party until they stopped flooding in from the trees. Archers fetched new arrows and took to the trees to find any straggling monsters while the others began the recovery process.

The silence was chilling as the fighters' ears still rang with the noise of the combat. Children stepped cautiously out of the wagons and got to work bringing water and bandages around to the wounded. Several wagon covers were torn and the cargo spilled, so those who were able went to help clean and repair. Once again Kíli found himself awestruck by their organization and discipline.

"Kíli!" He turned around to see Fíli stumbling up to him with dirt and goblin blood caked to his face and hair. "Kíli, how many did you get? I think I must have killed twenty, if not more," Fíli's eyes were bright and his breathlessness only made him sound more excited, "Lost track after a while."

Kíli smiled at him and shrugged, the motion causing him to wince. Fíli's smile faded, "Are you alright?"

"Sure I am," the younger said brightly while turning away from his brother's examination. "Let's go make sure the others are alive."

It took a while to find their friends with all the organized chaos swirling about them. But eventually they found Millí talking soothingly to a hyperventilating Ori. Gimli stood protectively nearby.

"Still want that ale?" Fíli asked him with a smirk, tugging on his ginger braid.

"More than you could imagine," he huffed, not taking his eyes off the trees. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine," Kíli answered for them, setting a hand on Ori's shoulder. When the timid dwarf didn't calm down, Millí gave Kíli and nod and he forced Ori's head between his knees until his breathing evened.

"_I'm_ fine," Fíli amended, scrutinizing Kíli. He opened his mouth to say something back when a younger human girl came into their group carrying a bucket of water and bandages.

"Medic," she called in a singsong voice, "Does anyone need a medic?"

"You're a healer?" Millí looked at the girl incredulously.

"No, I am."

A greying woman with uneven eyes and wiry hair hobbled behind the young girl, her shawl drawn tightly around her hunched shoulders. Millí let out a breath behind her teeth, not seeming to be relieved by the change in circumstance.

"I think we'll be alright," Gimli answered, helping the old woman pick through the fragments of a broken crate. She studied him intensely and then forced him to sit down on the ground across from her.

"Light, please Isa," the woman said curtly. In a moment the young girl struck a flint and took up a torch, holding it next to Gimli and the healer.

"It's important not to ignore your injuries when it comes to goblins," the elder scolded, "Villages in these parts have been absolutely ravaged by a string of Goblin Fever the likes of which hasn't been seen since the Second Age."

She dipped a cloth into the water bucket and started to clean a small cut on the red dwarf's cheek. Millí scoffed and crossed her arms. "Goblin fever? Fairy stories, nothing more."

"Oh no, she's quite right lassie," Bofur interrupted. He walked beside Bifur with arms laden with mugs of ale. "We've all heard the stories. Goblins with yellow dots on their skin, infecting the good peoples of the mountain with a horrible disease."

"Aye," Bifur agreed, pushing a mug into Fíli's hands, "Boils. Hallucinations. Bad stuff they say, very bad stuff."

"Stop it you two," Millí hissed, waving her head towards a quivering Ori, "You're scaring him."

Bofur laughed heartily and plopped himself down next to the young dwarf, thrusting a half smoked pipe into his mouth. "Smoke this lad, it'll calm yer nerves." Ori looked at him with wide eyes and inhaled deeply. Bofur smiled at him and patted his shoulder. "But it won't prevent Goblin fever from melting the skin off yer bones."

The old woman snapped her fingers over the sound of Ori's coughing. "You're ignorance will get you killed," she said venomously, pressing too hard against Gimli's cut. "It's not something to laugh at, it's a terrible affliction. It destroys families and levels cities. It does not discriminate against gender or age or race. It will kill any and all that it is able, so you'll do well not to take it lightly."

Fíli looked over at Kíli who had visibly paled. He nudged him with his elbow and gave him a smile. "Relax, Kee. She's just a kooky old bat. I've heard of Goblin Fever and it's nothing more than the flu."

The dark dwarf nodded once and watched as the old woman pulled Millí down next to clean up the marks on her hands.

Before the woman could ensnare the brothers, they were dragged off by a merchant name Helen to help set her tipped wagon. And once their hands were put to work, the jobs came in an endless stream. Fíli's hands lifted, hammered, tugged, pulled, and pushed until he felt like he single-handedly assembled the camp himself; but his eyes never left his brother. Kíli was keeping pace with Fíli, but it was clear to him that something with wrong. He was giving a valiant effort to hide his pain, but Fíli knew him better than he knew himself.

It wasn't until dusk that Fíli's suspicion was confirmed. The sun just beginning to rise, creating an eerie glow over the convoy.

"One more lads, then you can rest," Petry, a clothing merchant, told them with a merry grin. The brothers lined up next to a tipped wagon and gave each other an exasperated look.

"Alright. One, two, _three."_

With a great heave, the boys raised the wagon off the ground, first to knee level then with another lurch, just above their shoulders.

Fíli was unprepared for all the weight to fall against him as Kíli cried out, dropping his share of the wagon. The wood frame creaked and groaned until Fíli's arms shook too much and let it fall roughly back to the ground. Kíli was wincing and holding his shoulder, not noticing his brother's sharp gaze falling on him.

"Kee…"

Petry came over with a shocked look on his face, inspecting the wagon from any broken beams. Fíli rubbed the soreness in his hands and smiled apologetically at the man. "No more, I think," he said, gesturing towards Kíli. Petry nodded quietly and allowed Fíli to haul his brother up and drag him to a campfire that was all but abandoned by the sleeping merchants.

"Sit," Fíli ordered, pointing to a log. Kíli glared at him but complied, his hand not leaving his shoulder. He was tired and hungry and really just didn't have the energy to argue.

"Come on, move your hand," Fee said, his voice gentler than before. Kíli slowly dropped his hand and let his brother examine the wound in the dim light.

"I _knew_ it, I knew I saw that one goblin tackle you," Fíli muttered, his fingers brushing the punctured holes in Kíli's jerkin. "Take this off, we need to get that cleaned before it gets infected."

With some grumbling, Kíli pulled off his layers and tried not to appear cold as Fíli went off to find a healer. He returned with the graying woman who did not look at all pleased to be awake.

"Got yourself bit, boy?" she asked grimly, sitting down in front of him with her bucket and a cloth. Kíli smiled at her shyly and tried not to wince when she poked the flesh on his shoulder.

"Mahal Kíli," Fíli muttered, glaring at the blood that dried in rivets to the left side of his arm and chest. Teeth marks ringed his shoulder with puffy red punctures wounds. Not deep, but red and painful.

The healer—who they learned was named Thal—continued to prod the area around the bite until she elicited a hiss from Kíli. "It's bruised," she concluded, taking her hand away, "Bruised and weak. But not infected yet as far as I can tell. It shouldn't need stitches if you keep it bandaged for a while."

"Great, let's just get this over with then," Kíli grumbled as she dipped her rag in the bucket and started scrubbing at the dried blood.

"Just think Kee, if that leaves a mark you'll have managed your first real battle scar," Fíli offered with a wry grin. His brother didn't respond immediately, and even when he did it was only a slight smirk.

_Something's wrong._

The young dwarf let out a gasp as Thal tore a fang from the back of his shoulder, holding it up to the light in fascination. Fíli dropped down to sit beside his brother, keeping a wary eye on the old healer. "Well, just be glad we caught that!" she laughed, tossing the tooth nonchalantly into the trees. Kíli sighed and dropped his head into his hands while Fíli patted his good shoulder. Thal finished cleaning and dressing the wound with nimble fingers and stood the moment the bandage had been knotted.

"Now, get some sleep whelp," she ordered, pointing to an open wagon laden with vegetables. He looked at his older brother who nodded encouragingly before stumbling off to the inviting wagon. Normally he'd sleep on the ground by a fire, but since daylight was nearly upon them he would have to make do with something mobile. Fíli watched him go and then turned around to thank the woman, surprised to find her face an inch from his.

"You watch him closely lad, you hear?" she hissed, leaning in so that their noses nearly touched. "Keep a sharp eye on him. I'm telling you, there is something foul about these northern mountains, mark my words."

And with that she was off before he had a chance to recover himself.

_She's gone, you idiot. Wake up._

Fíli shook his head and gathered up Kíli's shirt and coat from the log. The sun was now fully up and most of the mess had been recovered, so the merchants were eager to move forward. In two more days they would reach the town, and after the goblin attack no one was particularly keen to stay on the road. With a heavy sigh he climbed into the vegetable wagon and found Kíli with his head propped against a crate of turnips. He tossed the shirts over him without a thought about waking him. _Nothing _would wake Kíli before he was ready to be woken, and that was a fact.

"Sleep well, brother," Fíli sighed, sitting against a burlap sack of carrots. As the convoy began to move, the blonde dwarf made sure to keep one hand on his sword and both eyes trained on the trees.

_I will not fail; I will not let those fiends hurt the travelers or Kíli again._

* * *

_All right! Author time!_

_I got this idea from a book I'm currently working on where Goblin Fever is a very real thing (In a massively different context! Hurray!). To accommodate my story I had to cut down the symptoms, but rest assured our favorite dwarves will understand it to its full wrath in this story!_

_I will try to update as soon as the chapters are finished. The (dun dun dunnnn) finals are coming, so I can't promise production consistency. But I will try!_

_Also, Gimli's young in this, so imagine him if he were hot and we'll go with that. _

_Also also, I have no beta. So grammar and I have a good relationship verbally and mentally, but sometimes the fingers get slap happy and well, stuff happens._

_Sorry._

_Be nice._

_Please read and review!_


	2. Iron Head

_Hi again! I'm glad people are liking this so far._

_So this chapter doesn't have a lot of action, it's mostly here to set up the action for the rest of the story. Kind of like a Wednesday. Or Sean Bean's death in the Game of Thrones. Or cannoli cake in front of a yoyo dieter. _

_What?_

_Forgive any grammar errors, I'm tired and didn't proof read._

_Notes and translations at the end._

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**2**

**Iron Head**

"We're nearly there!" Petry cried, pointing to the plethora of rooftops in the distant valley. Fíli whooped happily and slapped Kíli's good shoulder.

"_Finally,_" the blonde laughed. Gimli gave a throaty cheer through a mouth full of bread, spraying crumbs on Ori's shoulder.

"Aw, Gimli," he whined, brushing them off, "Show some tact."

Gimli looked at him and narrowed his eyes. "Shorry," he replied, this time spraying crumbs in Ori's face. Millí chuckled quietly to herself and got a light punch on the arm from her cousin.

Fíli's smile was stretched wide as he anticipated all the delicious food that would be available to them once they hit town. Jerky and stale bread lose their appeal after one meal. "What should we eat first, Kee?"

Glancing at his brother wiped the smile from Fíli's face. The younger dwarf had his eyes trained straight ahead and a frown etched on his face that had been there for nearly two days. He looked exhausted and furious all at the same time. "Kíli?"

"I don't care very much Fíli," he said flatly, "Sorry."

"What is _with _you?" Millí groaned in exasperation. Fíli kept his eyes on his brother whose face didn't seem to react to anything they said. He touched his fingers to his brother's forehead to see if he had a fever, but didn't feel any unusual heat on his skin. Kíli jerked away from his touch a second later with a grimace.

"Stop it, would you? I'm fine. A person's allowed to be in a bad mood every once in a while."

"Yeah but you're in a _horrible_ mood."

"And have been," Gimli added.

Ori was quick to chime in. "For two days."

Kíli rolled his eyes but did not look at them. "Well, if it's such a bother to you than _don't talk to me _and I won't have to answer. Problem solved." With that he quickened his pace until he was walking next to Petry, his friends staring blankly at his back.

"It isn't just me, right?" Millí asked them, "He's not _normally_ this way even when he is angry about something?"

Fíli shook his head, his eyes still on Kíli's hair. "I think it's best we just give him some space. It never helps to ask a grumpy person why they're grumpy."

"Is it because of that bite?" Ori pondered, "I'm sure it must itch. I got poison ivy once and it itched terribly. I was so unpleasant that Nori would sit on me until I stopped griping."

Fíli sighed and watched Brent approach them. "I don't know, just drop it," he muttered before turning his full attention to the large man before him. "Good day, Master Brent."

"Mhm," he grunted in reply. Fíli bit his cheek to avoid commenting on the man's manners. "You're the guide, we need to know which pass to take to get to the valley."

"Oh, I see," Fíli replied in his best diplomatic voice. "Let's have a look then."

When they arrive at the intersection, Kíli was already there talking to Petry. Fíli examined the three paths momentarily and then pointed to the one in the middle. "We should take that one," he said decidedly. Honestly, he wasn't sure. But all the paths would eventually lead to the village, so it was better to sound confident and accidentally take the longer path than sound doubtful and lose the trust of the merchants.

"No, we should take the one on the left, it's safer," Kíli retorted, sounding irritable. Fíli looked at him in surprise and then anger. If he had to deal with his brother's bad attitude _one_ more time—

"We take the one in the middle, Kíli." Fíli tried to control his voice, but he definitely sounded frustrated. "It's not dangerous. And it's faster."

_I think._

"There's no reason to take that one," Kíli hissed, "Even if it _is_ faster, the road is a distaster. We'll break all the wagon wheels and waste more time repairing them than we would on a somewhat longer, safer trek."

"How do you know? How do you know the difference between the paths, Kíli? Have you walked them all when we had our backs turned?"

The dark haired dwarf glared at him through his eyelashes, his frown deepening. "No, I haven't. I remember Thorin talking about it when he went over the map with us."

Fíli scoffed and shook his head. "You never pay attention when Thorin gives instructions. _I_ remember him saying that all the paths will work, and that this one's fastest." He turned and addressed Brent and Petry, who were watching the exchange with careful expressions. "We're taking the middle one," Fíli said firmly. Then he turned back and looked at Kíli, "End of discussion."

He walked away so that he wouldn't have to feel Kíli's eyes boring into him anymore.

_He'll come around. He just needs to sleep in a real bed and eat real food. _

Unfortunately for Fíli, Kíli had been right.

_Of course he was right,_ Fíli thought bitterly as yet another wagon wheel shattered. _This one time, the _one_ time he actually paid attention and now I look like an idiot. _

"It's alright laddie," Bofur offered kindly, "I can see the village now, it's much closer than before."

Fíli shrugged and cleared his throat, "Of course it is, I wouldn't steer us wrong."

If Bofur thought he was full of it, he didn't say so. Fíli replaced the fifth broken wheel of the day and swatted the mule's rump so that the wagon lurched forward. It kicked up dirt from the road, which kindly sprayed Fíli in the face.

_Perfect._

"I will walk wherever I please, thank you!"

Kíli's raised voice made Fíli forget his irritation. He politely dodged the merchants who were walking ever forward until he found Kíli face to face with a very impatient looking Brent. A few younger dwarves were watching nervously while Brent's companions kept their faces trained ahead.

"I don't like your attitude, _dwarfling_," Brent growled dangerously. "I think you think you're a big man now, but let me tell ya' somethin' boy, it'd take me two seconds to teach ya otherwise," Brent lowered himself further so that his nose was an inch from Kíli's, "And I'm not opposed to teachin'."

"What's going on here?" Fíli interrupted, much to the relief of the younger onlookers. Kíli's face with rouged with anger and looked almost severe as the icy glare delivered by his taller advisory. Brent addressed Fíli, but the intensity of his fury did not waver.

"Your brother is asking to be beat, that's what."

_Try humor. Humor helps diffuse tension._

"Well, I'd say I don't believe it but he's always been that way," Fíli smiled with a shrug, "Unfortunately, you don't have the authority to give it to him. Has he done anything illegal?"

"Don't take that tone with me," Brent hissed, "You're both children and nothin' more. You were hired to guide us to the village and to defend the camp, nothing more. And I don't take orders from hired hands."

Brent stormed off, leaving a red-faced Kíli glaring after him. Anger boiled up in Fíli but he suppressed it.

"Kíli, take a walk," he finally said. "Get into another argument and I won't stop them from delivering vigilante justice."

"Guz mahumub," his brother hissed.

Fíli's face flushed and his anger threatened to boil over. "Ühybîr, nadad—"

But Kíli was gone before he could finish is sentence. Fíli debated chasing after him and teaching him a lesson himself, but he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Master Fíli my boy," Demetrius bellowed, "We have one more spare wheel and we're almost at the village. I believe we'll make it after all!"

Demetrius was the rather-loud-but-friendly-enough leader of the colorful merchant wagons. He had strong arms and a round belly with a fit of brown whiskers. Fíli allowed himself to be pulled away and led to the front of the caravan once more. The village was not a mile off now with its strong gates blocking off the view of most of the houses.

"Great," Fíli began diplomatically, "Once we reach the—STOP!"

Fíli's hand shot out, smacking Demetrius's belly_. _

"What in the name of—"

"Look, Master Demetrius."

A massive black and silver snake was frozen in the path, its sinister head turned towards the robust man. "Three more steps and I would've been dead!" Demetrius gasped, not moving anything beside his mouth. "You saved my life."

Fíli kept frozen, praying to Mahal that the creature would slither away without any trouble. It was as long as four of him stacked on top of each other! And what's more, the snakes in the northern mountain were exceptionally poisonous and had a reputation for being both aggressive and painful.

"What do we do?" the man whispered urgently, flicking his eyes in the direction of the caravan. Those who'd seen Fíli stop Demetrius had stopped those behind them and so on until everyone had come to a halt. All for one snake.

_Their organization is truly astounding._

But the beast didn't slither away. It gathered itself up into neatly stacked loops while raising its head higher and flicking its red tongue at them. The way it weaved and bobbed was almost surreal to watch.

"Fíli, _it's going to strike,"_ Demetrius panicked quietly, too scared to move and to stay put at the same time.

_This can't be happening._

The snake's head swiveled between the man and the dwarf, as if deciding which would be more dangerous.

Or delicious.

"Don't move," Fíli finally answered. As slowly as he could possibly manage, he crept his fingers towards one of his throwing knives he kept tucked into his bracers. The small amount of motion didn't seem to threaten the snake, but it did catch its attention. With the yellow eyes now glaring with full attention on Fíli, he knew he'd only have one chance to get it right.

Finally his fingers connected with the shaft of the knife, causing him to elicit a small sigh of relief. "I have a plan," he whispered, slowly starting to move Demetrius behind him, "Just stay still." Ever so carefully, Fíli began to slide the knife from its hiding place. It was a gentle movement that took the poise of a practiced hand to accomplish. A whisper of sound, a poetry of movement. Another inch and he'd sail gracefully into the proverbial hall of heroes.

And then he dropped the knife.

It tumbled to the ground, causing Fíli to flail involuntarily in an attempt to catch it. The motion was too sudden, and it happened too fast for him to correct his mistake. And then everything slowed.

The snake reared back and then lurched forward with its jaw open impossibly wide. The fangs were the length of a dwarf's forearm and dripping with venom. Fíli had just enough time to snap his head up and stare into the massive jaws that were about to embrace his jugular.

_Thwack!_

Fíli blinked rapidly, trying to register what had just happened. The snake lay in a heap before his feet, its jaw still open wide enough to swallow his head. But something was wrong; it wasn't trying to maul him. It wasn't doing anything, actually.

_Oh._

A dark arrow protruded from the side of the snake's head, just below the eye. It was the kind of shot that only an elf could have made. He snapped his head to the side to find Kíli standing against the rock face with another arrow knocked and pointed at the snake's carcass.

"Make sure it's dead," he ordered, not moving his eyes from his target. Fíli swallowed hard and nodded, turning to the massive beast laid before him. He was about to kick it with his foot, but logic took over.

_If it _isn't _dead and you do that, you'll wind up dead yourself._

So without further ado, Fíli drew his sword and swung it down in a loop, severing the snake's head from its body. He could hear Demetrius breathe a sigh of relief behind him.

"Well look at that," he chuckled shakily, "Simply astounding."

"Ironhead Viper," Brent said grimly. When he'd arrived, no one knew. "They're one of the few species of animal with a strong enough stomach to feed off goblins."

Fíli looked over at his brother, who was replacing his bow on his back. "I could have gotten that, Kee," he joked as he approached the dark haired dwarf, "I was totally prepared to handle it."

Kíli didn't smile, but looked up at him with a dark expression. "I told you we never should have taken this path."

And then he was gone into the crowd, leaving a dumbstruck Fíli frozen where he stood for the second time that day.

* * *

Kíli followed the crowd as they poured into the village like a grand parade. He kept his eyes ahead of him and ignored the townsfolk that watched him pass. He didn't know where they were ultimately going nor what he would do when they got there. There was, however, one thing he did know.

He was _miserable._

He couldn't explain how he felt even if he tried. Everything someone said or did felt like a deliberate attack on his sanity. It was too warm, but the breeze was too cold. If no one was talking to him, he felt isolated. But if someone _did_ talk to him, he wanted to glue their lips shut. He didn't want it to be dark, but the sun was far too bright. And hot. And yellow.

_Damned sun._

Kíli shook his head and blinked the dust from his eyes.

_What is _happening _to me?_

On top of his mental anguish, the bite wound on his shoulder felt like it was constantly getting stabbed with a fire poker. Many injuries of a greater scale had befallen Kíli in his lifetime, but this wound blazed with enough vigor to match even the worst of them. He checked the bite many times to make sure there were no signs of infection. And since he could not find any, he deemed that it must be weakness causing him to be hyperactively sensitive to pain.

And that also irritated him.

The merchants came into the square at the center of town and started to divide off in different directions. The young dwarf made his way past the crowd with his jaw tightly clenched to prevent himself from cursing at those who bumped him.

"Fíli, Kíli, welcome to Brendor," Thorin called to them. Fíli emerged from a few yards ahead and walked up to their uncle, touching foreheads a moment in greeting. Kíli approached them silently and tried not to draw attention to himself. Thorin turned and touched his forehead to Kíli's without noticing his nephew's rigid posture.

"How was the journey?" Thorin asked as the last of the merchants divided off.

"It went fairly well," Fíli answered in his diplomatic voice. That voice made Kíli's skin crawl with irritation. "There was a goblin attack two nights before today, but no known casualties."

"Good," Thorin sighed, "You took so long I began to get worried."

Fíli bit his lip, forgetting to look official. "Yes, well…"

"Fíli chose to take the shorter path leading down the steep side of the cliff face," Kíli interjected coldly, "The road was hard on the wagons and we had to continually stop for repairs."

The blonde dwarf sighed and accepted the criticism. He _did_ ignore Kíli's logic and it _did_ cost them time. "Kíli also saved me from an Ironhead Viper, so there's that as well."

The acknowledgment only made Kíli squirm with discomfort. Thorin was watching him carefully now.

"Well done Kíli," he said finally, "Those creatures have enough venom to kill a man and enough strength to maim him before the poison even takes hold." Kíli grunted and shifted his eyes away from Thorin's scrutinizing gaze. "About the road, however, it's a good thing you took the one that you did Fíli. A rockslide wiped out the upper path not a day ago, and the lower has been teaming with goblins of incredible numbers. Excellent instinct, I'm very proud of both of you."

Fíli smiled and looked to his brother, hoping the rare praise from their uncle would rouse him from his foul mood. But Kíli was unmoved and kept his eyes trained on an alleyway that he desperately wanted to escape down. This interaction was getting to be more than his nerves were willing to handle. Thorin noticed this too and lightly touched Kíli's bandaged shoulder.

"Kíli, are you well?"

A set of dark brown eyes flicked to Thorin's, flashing with impatience. "I'm fine," he snapped. Thorin withdrew his hand and readied a rebuttal, but Kíli spun on his heels and stalked off into the lingering crowd. Fíli's face drew with concern as he watched his brother's back disappear into the shadows.

"Fíli, what is wrong with him?"

Thorin's voice was low, but it was full of his signature blend of anger and concern.

"He's been like that for days," Fíli answered miserably. "None of us know why and he won't explain. The night that the goblins attacked us, he got bit on the shoulder. It's not that serious, so I don't think that that's the problem. But the from the time he woke up the next morning, he's been as wretched as you see him now."

Thorin stroked his chin and narrowed his eyes.

"I'm worried Uncle, it's not like him."

"I think we best not dwell on it for now," he said decidedly, "If he doesn't improve with food and sleep, him and I will have to have a discussion on what it means to present oneself as a Durin."

* * *

Kíli felt like his mind was choking on itself. The bed was too soft, scratchy, firm, and malleable all at the same time. His legs were hot, but his shoulders were cold. And even if he managed to get comfortable enough to lie still, his thoughts would just…

Not. Shut. Up.

He felt guilty for how he acted toward Fíli and Thorin, but found them too unbearable to be around to bother apologizing. His shoulder itched and ached, even though he had just changed the bandage.

_Mahal help me, _he inwardly sighed, _I just need to get some _sleep.

It had been three days since their arrival in Brendor. Three days was long enough for Kíli to spew as many harsh and unjustified comments at his friends as possible. He completely alienated Millí by telling her that her beard didn't flatter her face and that she could be out-drinked by an elf. Gimli's mother Guinn was amongst the adult dwarves working the forge with Thorin, so naturally Kíli had to make the comment that he couldn't differentiate Gloin from Guinn. Ori was far too easy to insult, so Kíli was able to hurt him on multiple levels. He had managed to avoid his brother and Thorin, but his newfound cruelty had stretched out to dwarves of all ages and status, including Dwalin, Bofur and Bifur, Oin, Nori, and many others.

And being notorious for a bad attitude left plenty of opportunities for brooding and inner conflict. Nasty business that doesn't allow one to sleep. Even when that one really, _really_ wants to.

"I give up!" Kíli finally shouted, sitting up in his bed. If he couldn't sleep, he certainly wouldn't lie around wasting time. He threw the blankets to the ground and swung his feet into his boots. In a matter of seconds he had his jerkin on over his tunic and his archery bracers pulled to his elbows. A second more and his bow was slung behind his back along with a full quiver of arrows. Then he was free of the room and out in the night air.

Kíli walked through the annoyingly silent streets until he found a secluded circular clearing amongst the shabby houses. There was a post in the middle of the circle that looked with a whipping post from the Second Age.

_Excellent for target practice._

Kili positioned himself at the edge of the houses and knocked an arrow to his bow. He clenched his jaw against the pain flaring in his shoulder, took a deep breath, and fired.

The arrow dug flawlessly into the wood of the post with a satisfying thud. It was the closest thing to a positive feeling Kíli had felt in nearly a week.

_Try to split the arrow._

Kíli smirked at his own challenge and knocked another arrow. He pulled the string back, poised himself, took a breath, and released.

_Crack._

A sharp pain suddenly erupted on the back of his head. His vision flashed white a moment and then started to pitch and churn. He felt like he was spinning and falling at the same time.

"What—"

Something hard collided with the side of his head this time. He gasped and reached out for whatever was attacking him. Kíli couldn't tell up from down and only managed to roll himself over onto his stomach before it all became too much.

Darkness overtook him before he got to see the second arrow wedged between the perfectly even halves of the first.

* * *

_Okay!_

_Thanks for the first comers to the story who lent their enthusiasm and support. It means a lot! (Speaking of lent, happy Palm Sunday!)_

_DWARF TRANSLATION: Kíli: _"Guz mahumub," means "_Eat shit/feces." (Tsk tsk, Kee.)_

_Fíli: "__Ü__hybîr, nadad," _roughly means_, "Listen, brother…"_

_Thanks again! And forgive my grammatical errors!_


	3. The Devil's Reap

_Hello! Not much to say, I just hope this chapter's easy to follow. I've been so exhausted lately with school. But the show must go on!_

_Happy reading :)_

* * *

**3**

**The Devil's Reap**

Fíli woke up to the sound of someone wailing.

_What in Durin's name…_

It was still dark outside his window, though the first signs of the sun were beginning to show. The wailing was coming from one of the other bedrooms in the inn. Fíli swung out of bed and threw his blanket around his shoulders. He followed the noise until he found himself four doors down the hall, where a small clump of people with grim faces were gathered.

"What's going on?" Fíli asked, feeling a cold dread come over him.

"Someone's dead," a sandy haired woman whispered, her shawl drawn tightly around her shoulders. It was just that kind of night, the sort where one needs something wrapped around them to keep any semblance of warmth.

Fíli looked into the dimly lit room, where a young child clung to an old man as they both sobbed over the still body on the bed. He couldn't see the face, but he could see curly red hair draped to the waist and knew it had to be a woman. Maybe the child's mother and the daughter of the old man. Fíli didn't recognize any of the mourners, but he couldn't fight the crushing pity that came over him.

"What happened?" a by-standing child whispered. The wailing was almost unbearable. Fíli felt a hand on his shoulder and found Dwalin standing behind him, looking just as grim faced as the tragic onlookers.

"Come away laddie," he said grimly, "Leave 'em to mourn in peace."

The blonde dwarf followed Dwalin down the stairs and into the common area where a few more people had gathered. Fíli found a bench and sat down with his blanket still pulled close to him. He zoned out as they talked in hushed voices until one broke off—the innkeeper—to get a mortician to retrieve the body.

"You look like you could use something warm, lad." Fíli looked up to find the homely face of the innkeeper's wife smiling kindly at him. He barely registered the hot mug of cider she was holding until she placed it in his hands.

"Thank you," he said softly, staring at the hot liquid. He didn't understand why he felt so cold and empty, but the chill went all the way to his bones. Like a dark cloud hung over the entire place. The woman sat next to him and watched the clumps of men and dwarves alike talk amongst each other. Dwalin joined them a moment later without a word.

"What happened?" Fíli finally asked, "To the woman. How did she die?"

The innkeeper—Pauline—sighed and folded her hands. "Goblin Fever, I'm afraid. It's been a terror in this part of the mountains for years."

"But we've always been told that Goblin Fever wasn't real," Fíli protested, "That it was a myth used to scare bandits from the mountains."

Pauline shook her head. "The original disease died with the defeat of Sauron many, many years ago. For a while we were free of it. But this new illness emerged with symptoms identical to the fabled fever, save for its speed. Almost like this string is weaker than the first. The healers named it Coal Fever for the way it turns the victim's nails black at the last stages. All the same, the similarities led to many believing it to be Goblin Fever, and the name has stuck." She sighed and rubbed the weariness from her eyes. "It can only be cured by consuming a dried flower called _Mallos,_ but it doesn't grow here. The merchants you escorted have brought it to us in large quantities but for some like the woman, it's too late."

The cold inside of Fíli grew icier as Pauline's last few words hung in the air. After a moment he let himself listen to the people talking around him.

"…showed signs of it just three weeks ago…"

"…comatose for four days, they were hoping that the Mallos would…"

"…left her child and father behind, the poor wretches…"

"….early breakfast for me…"

"…goblin attack on the eastern village. She had a cut on her ankle I believe. Got it infected somehow, nobody knows w…"

"…wash the sheets…"

"…wretched mood at first. Nearly drove her family away. But they…"

"Wait."

Fíli's head snapped up, staring directly at Pauline. "How does it start?" he demanded. She blinked back at him in shock but his panic only grew with her silence. "Pauline, how does Goblin Fever start? How do you know if someone has it?!"

"What are you on about, boy?" Dwalin interjected, but Pauline spoke before Fíli could.

"The first stage is a change in mood," she said softly, "They become goblin-esque in demeanor."

Fíli's mug of cider was long forgotten as he listened to her words.

"So they become petulant? Unreasonable?"

Pauline's eyes were sad when she looked at him and nodded. "They fall far away from the person they were once known to be."

A small cry escaped Fíli's mouth and he was quickly on his feet. "Kíli," he choked, looking to Dwalin, "Master Dwalin, we have to find my brother."

* * *

A sharp, steadying throbbing greeted Kíli to consciousness.

_What in Durin's name is wrong with my head?_

He could feel that he was lying on something hard and uncomfortable and the sounds of wagons and dirt roads surrounded him. He heard a familiar merry laugh and groaned as the sound cut straight through to his aching head.

_How long have we been on the road? _He wondered deliriously, _I thought for sure we would have reached the village by now…_

The wagon went over a bump, jostling poor Kíli and his headache.

_Hold on a second._

Something wasn't right. Kíli froze and listened, his eyes still closed against the light he didn't want to meet. The wagon went over a second bump and this time there was no mistaking the sound of rattling chains.

Kíli's eyes shot open and he immediately regretted his decision and closed them. It hadn't been especially bright, but it hurt all the same. With a heavy groan he tried to rub the pain from his temples. Except there was a problem. His hands wouldn't move.

In fact, he couldn't feel his hands at all.

Kíli opened his eyes and this time bit back his groan and forced himself to adjust to the light. And for the second time that day he regretted opening his eyes.

Above him was the frame of a covered wagon, but the bars were made of iron. Faint sunlight poured through the wagon cover and something about it made his conscience twinge. But what truly disturbed him was the sight of his hands chained to the side of the wagon above him.

And that his hands weren't the only ones there.

"Easy lad, you have a welt on your head the size of an egg," a voice told him.

_Bofur._

Kíli closed his eyes and forced himself to sit up as slowing as possible. "Easy now…there ya go."

Now in sitting position, the young dwarf could literally feel every single pulse of his blood as it drained from his head. He still couldn't feel his hands, but there was strange feeling in his wrists that must be from the shackles cutting off his circulation. When he managed to open his eyes again, his heart dropped to his stomach. In the small wagon there were eleven people chained up to the sides. Kíli didn't recognize those of them that were menfolk, but he certainly recognized the dwarves.

Millí was chained directly across from him, her head rested against the bars. He wondered if she was unconscious or just asleep. Two people over sat Ori, looking scared and miserable as Kíli's ever seen him before.

On Kíli's side of the wagon were himself and Bofur, and at the end closest to the back was Gimli with a large gag tied around his face. The two boys made eye contact before the ginger dwarf's eyes flicked back to Millí.

Upon further inspection, Kíli realized two things. One, that everyone in the wagon was fairly young—and if not young, definitely not old—and two, his family was not there. He couldn't tell if that made him feel relieved or not.

"I don't understand," Kíli finally said. His voice sounded rough from grogginess, but he imagined he probably looked worse than he sounded. The longer he stayed conscious, the more his old feeling of miserable irritation began to return. His head and shoulder throbbed in tandem as the chained people blinked at each other.

"Slavers," one of the men answered. He was covered in dirt and bruises and looked exhausted. The scarring around his shackles suggested he'd been on the wagon a long time. "From what we've gathered, they sell their cargo on the Greyflood River."

"Slavers?" Kíli repeated. "How in Durin's name did we get caught up with slavers?"

Bofur sighed and shifted his weight. "The merchants you lads accompanied to the village were not all toymakers and veggie peddlers."

Kíli opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the back of the wagon flew open. The light blinded him as the silhouette of a man stood in the entrance.

"Rise n' shine, shitheads," declared the man. Kíli recognized the thick and course accent, but not the voice. When he could see properly, he made out a pile of flaming red hair on a face that looked sturdy and young. He looked jolly even, with his broad smile and bright paisley shirt. _If_ you could discredit the fact that he just called them all shitheads.

_But then again, _Kíli thought, _maybe he's the sort of guy that gets jolly about having a bunch of people chained up in his family wagon._

Gimli, who was closest, tried to kick the man but missed on account of his legs being too short. The captor's smile didn't falter even as he nonchalantly slapped the dwarf across the face.

"None of that, now, I don't have all day," he laughed. His eyes flicked to each of the prisoners and stopped when he landed on Kíli.

"Ah, he's awake! Our trophy catch." Kíli concentrated every negative feeling he could possibly muster—and it was a considerable amount to be certain—into his glare as the man approached him. When he knelt close, Kíli could see he was fairly young. And something about the look of him made his conscience twinge again, but his head was spinning too much for him to sort it out. "Gotcher self bumped, I see. M'name's Rod. Tell me dwarf, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Rod held up his hand with four fingers displayed. But Kíli's mouth didn't open in the slightest; he just continued to stare at the boy. There was just something so nagging about his face that Kíli didn't notice when he waggled his fingers impatiently.

"I believe I asked you a question, _dwarf_."

Rage, enhanced by whatever had been fueling his rotten attitude for the past week, boiled up inside of him to the point he could no longer suppress it.

"Unchain me you _coward_." For effect, Kíli spit in Rod's irritatingly jubilant face.

_Not so cheery now, are you?_

Rod wiped his eye and flashed another grin at Kíli, but this one had only danger behind it. "Very well," he said simply. Standing up, he addressed a second man who'd come to the wagon. "Tobi, this one for sure," he pointed at Kíli, who was now glaring at the chubby, white-blonde boy apparently named Tobi. "And…hm…" Rod looked around at the prisoners and pointed at one of the unfamiliar boys, "That one…and…" he gestured lazily towards Ori, "This one."

"Ruk marad bashukuh," came a stern voice. Everyone looked to Millí, who was awake and spitting flames from her eyes at Rod.

"Dunno what that means, whelp."

Millí squared her shoulders and narrowed her eyes.

"I said, you will take him _over my dead body_."

Rod laughed a full belly laugh and pointed incredulously at Ori. "Him? This skinny little thing?"

"Millí, don't—"

"You can both come!" Rod chuckled. Then he ducked his head so as not to hit it and exited the wagon, gesturing back at them to Tobi before walking away.

"Okay, make this easy and it will be easy," the boy said. "Make it hard and we'll make it harder."

Before Kíli could register what was happening, three more men poured into the wagon with Tobi. When the blonde unlocked Kíli's shackles, he barely had time to drop his hands before someone was hoisting him up and out into the dirt. He landed hard on his chin and wince at the way his teeth had clacked together. He heard the other bodies hit the ground beside him and tried to get his head to work.

_You're not chained. Run._

He pushed himself up from the dirt, only to have a foot in his back slam him back down. "Not yet, scum," the man hissed, grinding the toe of his boot against Kíli's spine.

"I'm not the scum here," he growled back, but his words were lost in the dust.

"Okay you miserable wretches," Tobi announced, "There was a rock slide and now our path is blocked. You're to clear the rocks away from the road as quickly as possible. Try to run and our archers will hobble you, understood?"

The foot was lifted off Kíli's back and a hand grabbed his hair, yanking him to his feet. The second he was up he swung a fist at the man who'd grabbed him. He felt it connect with a jaw and smiled in satisfaction, lunging at the captor while he clutched his face. The two of them tumbled to the ground and Kíli was quick to latch his fingers around the man's throat.

"_Enough!_"

There was a loud crack and a flash of pain cut across Kíli's back. It distracted him long enough for the man underneath him to land a punch to his ear and toss the dwarf off of him. Kíli scrambled to get up and recieved sharp kick to the side. He ground his teeth together and refused to cry out. He would _not_ give them that satisfaction.

Now on his knees, a hand grabbed the dwarf's jaw and forced him to look up. A whiskery man looked down at him with a patronizing look of pity, a whip folded into his other hand.

"You just lost food and water for the day, congratulations," he said in an eerily calm voice. "Keep it up and everyone else will lose it too."

He released Kíli's jaw and patted his head right over the welt that had formed from when he was initially captured. When the man walked away Kíli made eye contact with Millí, who was looking at him with a mixture of worry and anger. Not anger directed at him, but at their situation. He nodded to her and heaved himself up to his feet, swallowing a curse he wanted to spit at the man he punched.

"Kíli, where's Fíli?" Ori asked quietly.

"I don't know," he snapped harshly, "And I don't care."

An incredible amount of bitterness swelled in Kíli then at the shocked look on Ori's face. It was so strong he could taste it in his mouth.

"How could you say that?" Millí reprimanded in a raspy whisper. Now that they were outside, he could see the blood dried to the right side of her face.

"Because," Kíli hissed, "he wasn't there. Nor was Thorin. There's a reason why we're the ones in this mess and not them. They weren't there to help us; they didn't even notice we were gone. And now look where we are. And I bet they don't care, they're just happy that its my—_our_ hides on the line and not _theirs. _Well let me tell you what, a curse on them. A curse on _all_ of them. My family, and yours, and all the other blasted dwarves in that village. If they're satisfied to let us rot in a slave wagon than I'll be happy to let them rot in their respective graves when they meet them, make no mistake."

The words felt like poison spewing from his mouth, but if felt incredible to have the toxin of them in the air and no longer in his chest. Millí's eyes stung with tears as she shook her head at him.

"You're not Kíli," she whispered in a shaky voice, "I don't know what's become of you, but you're not the friend I knew."

Kíli glared at her and shrugged his shoulder. "I'm not going to apologize for not meeting your standards in friendship."

He turned then as the men started to move them forward. But when he did, something else caught his eye entirely. The wagon he had been in was covered in eccentric, purple fabric with golden suns embroidered into the pattern. In fact, all of the wagons were brightly colored in such a way, and not a single one of the people around them looked unfriendly.

And then he saw a man watching them; a man with bright red hair, cheery eyes, and a robust middle.

"Kíli, my boy!" he laughed with open arms.

_Demetrius. _

* * *

Kíli was proving harder to find than Fíli initially thought. The sun was high in the sky now and all of the dwarves in the village that could be spared were looking for the young dwarf. Not a few hours ago, Fíli had appealed to Thorin to get help in finding his brother.

"_Think about it, Uncle," Fíli implored, "He was in such a horrible mood. He'd never act that way if he were well, I know it. And he was bit by a goblin in the battle! If that's not a way to contract the fever, I don't know what is."_

_Thorin's lips pressed together in a hard line. "I can't deny that I've seen how this fever works, and it does seem to align with the way Kíli's been behaving," he said slowly, "Perhaps I didn't want to believe it. So many in this village have died of it before the merchants brought the Mallos with them. But if we can get some to Kíli, he should be alright."_

"_Exactly why we should find him as soon as possible."_

But they couldn't find him anywhere.

Fíli thought that maybe Kíli was hiding somewhere so that he could be alone from the people he found to be so irritating. He tried every inn and every pub in the village to no avail.

"_It'll be difficult,"_ Thorin had said, _"It's not often that Kíli can be found if Kíli doesn't _want_ to be found."_

And that concerned Fíli more now than ever. He had since learned the workings of the illness, and the knowledge disturbed him. The warning phase was the anger and irritation that he knew Kíli had experienced. After that, the fever hits and there's five stages before a brief comma and eventually death. If Kíli was in any of the next stages, there's a chance he'd be too sick to seek them out or get help. Kíli. His younger brother could be suffering alone somewhere.

The thought made Fíli feel sick himself.

He had learned all of this in one of the pubs, where he heard of a folksong for the Goblin Fever. It was a chilling song in lyric, though the tune hadn't been as heavy as the words. Regardless, even hours later, Fíli couldn't get it out of his head.

_In the northern mountains blue,_

_A silent devil walks._

_Deep in dark his poisons brew,_

_And in darkness come for you,_

_The devil that never talks. _

_o_

_His door a cut or slit or sting,_

_The devil of the coal._

_Then bitterness and anger bring,_

_The first of his awakening,_

_Before he becomes whole._

_o_

_Five strikes mark the devil's reap,_

_At anger's demise._

_Five before the widows weep,_

_On the eve of wakeless sleep,_

_When the devil claims his prize._

_o_

_The first will spin you side to side,_

_Fill your bones with ache, _

_In confusion lose your stride,_

_As the flames engulf your hide,_

_And watch your muscles quake._

_o_

_The second strike will take your head,_

_Riddle it with stones._

_Your stomach fills with shards of lead,_

_Until the devil deems you bled,_

_And stokes fire in your bones._

_o_

_The third marks the coldest days,_

_The flames turned to ice._

_And though the flesh is still ablaze,_

_If feels the sun has quenched its rays._

_And slipped to winter's vice._

_o_

_Four is brief but of cruelest fair,_

_To the truth you're blind. _

_And all you loved is clearly there, _

_As boundless visions grace the air, _

_But only in the mind. _

_o_

_The fifth comes afore the night, _

_As darkness turns sweet._

_Your eyes too weary for the light,_

_Your bones too heavy for the fight,_

_The devil takes to his feet._

_o_

_No thunderclap can wake the heart,_

_That's fallen to the sleep._

_No weeping love can stem the start,_

_Nor remedy of herb and art,_

_Can release the devil's keep._

_o_

_Without golden flower's mend,_

_Devil can't be slain._

_And in the dark his hand extend,_

_And taken then, to mark the end._

_To never wake again._

_o_

* * *

_OooOOoo, ominous. Looks like Kíli's in for a rough time once the grumpiness ends. _

Translation: When Millí says "Ruk marad bashukuh," it really (roughly) means "Over my dead bones." I'm sure there are some grammatical rules I'm missing when it comes to Khuzdul, but I'm trying!

Oh, and happy Easter tomorrow!

As always, commenting makes life better! (And a hearty thanks to all those who do!)


	4. Blood and Fireworks

_Hi! SUPER long chapter for ya! Life's been crazy, sorry about the wait. But I think you guys are going to like this one.  
_

_Also, I'll be adding a key to the next chapter to decipher the poem's description of GF symptoms in case it was hard to follow. And potentially a name reference list in case that too is getting confusing. _

_Happy reading!_

* * *

**4**

**Blood and Fireworks**

"Come on lads, get those rocks out of there. We don't have all day!"

Kíli wiped the sweat from his brow and glared up at the whiskery whip holder—Daren—who was sitting on the rock pile drinking. His hands were sore and tired—not to mention the raw marks from the shackles—but there was still rubble piled as high as his head standing in the way of the wagons. On either side of them, archers had arrows knocked and pointed lazily in their direction.

"We've been workin' for hours," the village boy, Aaron, groaned. His left hand was bleeding lightly as he rolled another stone from the pile and over the side of the path.

"And you'll _be_ working for hours unless you hurry it up."

Millí and Ori had been silent for the entirety of their work, but Kíli could see on their faces that they weren't fairing as well as they should. The rocks were heavy and Ori was never known to be strong. Millí was trying her best to cover for him, but the wound on her head was slowing her down. Aaron complained the most vocally, but also did the most work. He eyed the whip in Daren's hands warily the entire time.

"Kíli," Ori whispered as they came close, "what are we going to do?"

"I'm not your mother Ori," the prince hissed back, "figure it out for yourself. You're supposed to be the smart one anyway, isn't that why you don't have a single muscle in your arms? All books and scrolls, no training?"

Ori looked stricken and Kíli just rolled his eyes and moved on. He was angry at everyone and even angrier at himself for being so cruel. He couldn't help it, the venomous words spewed from his mouth before he could stop them. Like they were waiting for an opportunity to escape.

He scooped up a larger boulder and dropped it over the edge, all the while watching Millí struggle to loosen one small enough for her to carry. She bit her lip in frustration and pushed off the other rocks in hope that the extra leverage would pull it free, but it didn't work.

"Come on, weakling. It's not that hard," Daren taunted. He cracked the whip in the air just above her head for effect. She sucked in a deep breath and tried again, to no avail. Kíli wanted to wipe that smug look right off of Daren's face more than he wanted anything else.

"Here," he grunted, tearing the rock free. As soon as it came loose, the weight of the stones shifted and the stack crumbled, sending Daren to the ground. The captives backed up and held back smirks as the man stumbled to his feet and rubbed his tailbone.

"You little runt," he snarled, suddenly grabbing the collar of Kíli's tunic, "You did that on purpose."

"You wanted us to move the rocks. I did."

Daren smirked and drew dangerously close. "I'm going to wipe that smirk right off your face, boy."

"I'd like to see you try."

Kíli fought as three men grabbed him by the arms and dragged him to a tall thin stone by the edge of the mountain wall. They tore his shirt off and forced him against it, binding his wrists to the other side. The stone and leather necklace, the one that his father had given him before his untimely death, now ground uncomfortably against his chest. And as soon as the knots were secure, he yanked and pulled against the ropes with all his might, but it only succeeded in biting them further into his skin. The rock was too tall for him to pull his arms over and too rooted to budge. The young dwarf growled in frustration as the struggle seemed to more and more hopeless, but kept a defiant sneer on his face that he shot in Daren's direction.

"Leave him alone!" Ori cried from some point that Kíli couldn't see. There was the noise of feet and scuffling and fists hitting bone. It sounded like the other prisoners were struggling against their captors with all their might.

"Stop it you fools," Kíli hissed at them all, "you'll accomplish nothing but getting yourselves killed. Think with your heads for once."

Millí's response was to use her head to head-butt the man in front of her. But three prisoners were no match for the sheer number of people available in the camp and they were quickly restrained while Kíli remained stuck to the rock. Daren cracked his whip in the air and everyone fell silent.

"Your friend will pay for your mistake," he told them, no doubt pointing to Kíli. "And you will learn quickly how things are done around here."

Amongst the toxic streams of anger and hypersensitivity the dark-haired dwarf was experiencing, a new emotion began to emerge.

Dread.

"Let us _go _you foul, putrid little—"

Kíli's voice cut out with the sound of the whip snapped across his back. The sting of it quickly followed with a ferocity that he did not expect. He ground his teeth together so as not to cry out and shut his eyes against the second lash that cracked across his back. The third cut across the preexisting wounds, adding to the bite of it. Rage boiled inside him intensified by every iota of pain he felt, which at that moment was a significant amount.

At the fourth crack of the whip, the darkest and most forbidden of curses began to pour from his mouth at those who held them captive. The words were in his people's language so the men could not understand them, but one didn't have to to feel the rancor behind them. Though Kíli couldn't see their faces, both Ori and Millí were thoroughly shocked and sickened by the foul speech spewing from Kíli's lips. It was the kind of words dark enough to potentially get a dwarf forbidden from Mansions of Mahal. They seemed to turn the sky darker and the blood colder. Ancient words, evil words.

Words Kíli was more than happy to use.

The fifth lash stretched its claw over the old bite wound on his shoulder, which momentarily silenced the dwarf.

"Wait, wait, wait," came a voice, just as Daren raised the whip again. Kíli recognized it as Demetrius, the jolly merchant he had once been fond of. "We need that boy in tip top shape," Demetrius continued, closer now, "The scouts are meeting us in a fortnight and they will want to see some strong specimens."

"Dem, if you _heard_ the kind of attitude that little shit has been giving me…"

"Oh I have no doubt about that," the leader's voice chuckled, "But for now, we really need to sell. If they see him all beat up on the first viewing, he won't sell at all."

Daren seemed to mull it over a moment and reached peace. "Very well," he said, "I understand." There was the sound of movement and a small popping noise. "Well, don't want him to get infected either then."

Something cold and wet poured down Kíli's back in rivets, setting the whip marks on absolute fire. He clenched his jaw so tightly it threatened to break as his wounds screamed in protest. "There," Daren said with a patronizing tone, "All clean."

Kíli felt like he was going mad with the pain and fury he felt inside. His breath caught in his throat and he barely noticed himself being untied from the stone. When he was free, he did not rise from his knees. It was too much, simply _too_ much for him to handle. He'd never felt so miserable so strongly.

Someone forced him to his feet, tugged his shirt over his head, and pushed him at the pile of stones again. He stumbled and fell, just managing to catch himself before hitting the ground. His back blazed with the movement, but he straightened up with his dignity in tact. He a deep breath he picked up the stone in front of him and threw it over the edge, barely missing Daren and Demetrius.

"Watch it, boy!" the whip holder snarled. Demetrius smiled at Kíli and stepped towards him while adjusting the gold belt around his belly.

"Kíli my boy," he cooed, "don't go making this worse for yourself, hm? We don't want o have to hurt you, but if you act like a devil we're going to have to."

Kíli spit at him and smiled as it hit the man in the eye. "We helped you," Kíli hissed, "We helped you get to the village and this is how you repay us? By enslaving us? What kind of man does such a thing?"

Demetrius chuckled and pated Kíli's shoulder, "A rich one, lad. A rich one."

Kíli tore his shoulder away from his touch and scowled. "Don't touch me with your filthy hands. You're no better than an orc. No, you're worse. Far worse."

"Ah ah ah," Demetrius tutted, waggling a finger at him, "Show some respect boy, you're property now and you're going to have to learn to act like it."

On cue, someone behind him slammed something hard against his back, hard enough that he could feel it in his ribs. He gasped and spun around to find his attacker holding a large wooden plank with holes drilled through it. The stocky woman raised struck him again over the shoulder and again to his side.

"That'll be enough, Gretchen," Demetrius said with a gentle hand held up.

"I'm avoidin' his face," she complained. The leader tightened his lips at her and she dropped the paddle, shooting a dangerous glare at Kíli, who was trying not to let his eyes tear up against the stinging in his skin.

Demetrius' hand clutched Kíli's jaw and turned his face to look at him.

"Listen to me boy," he said in a dangerous, yet almost kind voice, "Cooperate. Your friends are not as strong as you are and will not be that much of a loss if we have to send a message." His head nodded towards the archers who had not let the tension fall from their bows. Kíli studied the arrowheads a moment as they gleamed in the sun before turning his eyes back to Demetrius. Suddenly a question rose to the surface that he didn't even know was there.

"Where's my brother?" he asked tightly. His voice lacked the venom that he'd grown accustom to. It just sounded tired.

Demetrius studied him a moment before releasing his jaw and patting his cheek. "Best forget your brother, young dwarf." Before Kíli could ask what exactly that meant, the rotund man walked away and Kíli was forced back to the work on the road.

_What did he mean? _

_Fíli, he can't be dead. _

_He didn't say he was dead, he just said forget him…_

Horrifying thoughts stuck in Kíli's mind as he stared at the rocks in front of him. Millí, Ori, and Aaron joined him in silence, finishing up the work one stone at a time. Kíli's body shook and his hands felt weak as the sun dragged its way through the sky. Beads of sweat rolled down his head as he tried to shut out his pain. His hunger. His thirst.

Someone came by with water for the workers. Aaron accepted it greedily and clutched the ladle so that the woman wouldn't take it away before he had had his fill. When it came time for Ori to drink, the dwarf looked with concern to Kíli who had taken the reprieve to rest his arms and legs. He felt dizzy with thirst and heat and exhaustion and pain. Ori then shook his head and pushed the ladle away from him, but Millí smacked him hard on the arm. Kíli couldn't make out the words of their exchange, but in the end Millí won and Ori drank the water with a guilty look plastered to his face the entire time. She accepted her drink without hesitation and then cupped her hands and held them out.

"A little more please," she said firmly. The woman looked at her with a raised eyebrow and Millí thrust her hands closer. "To splash me face, it's hot out here after all."

The woman pursed her lips and then dipped the ladle in the bucket and poured a conservative amount into Millí's hands. "Thanks," she said curtly. Then, without any attempt to be subtle, she walked straight to Kíli and knelt in front of him.

"Open your mouth," she demanded. "Before this all goes drippin' from my fingers."

Kíli looked up at her and his eyes narrowed. She didn't look happy to be helping him, but the water _did _look appealing even when contained in a pair of dirty hands. So Kíli allowed her to pour it into his mouth and tried not to groan at how meager the amount was. It was barely enough to wet his mouth, much less coat his throat. She wiped her wet hands against his forehead and neck in an attempt to cool him down and frowned, drawing her hands away slowly.

"Thanks," he mumbled, refusing to look at her. He knew he should be angry at her for getting more water than him. That would be consistent with the way he's been feeling for the past week, but something was different.

His rage, much to his confusion, seemed to be slipping from him. He didn't want it to; it kept him strong. It kept him bold. But now the ire that had been his constant companion for the past week felt like ice in his hands.

Millí grunted in reply and walked away, waving off the glare of the water woman.

Kíli closed his eyes and rested his head against the stone behind him. Sleep was the only comfort he could accept that this point. But just as the inviting darkness began to take him in, a shadow passed in front of the setting sun and kicked his feet.

"Get up," Daren demanded, "Time to get this mess done."

* * *

"I don't understand," Fíli groaned, kicking at a chair in frustration. "Where could he have gone?!"

"It's not been a full day Fíli, if he went out to hunt he could be gone for days and none of us would be the wiser," Thorin reasoned. Gloin and his wife Guinn were smoking their pipes with grim faces while Dwalin stood by the door with his massive arms crossed over his chest.

"Something doesn't feel right," Fíli insisted, looking pleadingly to the others in the room. Nori and Bifur came into the room carrying large mugs of ale that they passed out to the company. Millí's family, a collection of gold-haired dwarves with intricately styled and beaded beards, sat and drank quietly. Fíli and Thorin both declined the drink. "Uncle, you can't tell me you don't feel it too. We haven't been able to find Gimli or Millí or Ori either, and if they four of them went out together, don't you think they would have _told_ someone?"

"Gimli and Millí said they were going out for a hunt just last night," Guinn said calmly, "We're not concerned for them, they promised to not go far. They're expected back by nightfall."

"No doubt Ori went with them," Nori added, "He's not often far from Millí."

Balin, who always soothed Fíli at times like this, gently added, "Kíli could have followed them, lad."

"He wouldn't have gone without telling me," Fíli retorted, though he did not feel it was completely true.

"Not if he has the fever like you say," Oin added, "He probably wouldn't even think of it."

Thorin sighed and rubbed his temple. "They're young…" Fíli opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by his uncle's raised hand, "But collectively, not stupid. If Kíli has followed your friends on the hunt and falls ill, they will return him. If they have not returned for the festival's opening ceremony tomorrow, we will go out and search the outskirts of the town. Otherwise, I think we need not worry on it. Kíli's a strong lad; he will not stay gone for long. Have some faith in him."

Thorin patted his nephew's shoulder and left the room without another word. Fíli hung his head and stayed only a moment longer before heading for the door. He was stopped by a hand to the shoulder.

"Bombur used t'panic when Bofur would disappear," Bifur said in a low voice, "But he always turned up jus'the same."

Fíli nodded and then made his way outside. The sun was nearly set and the village bustled with last minute preparations for the festival. He watched as a large cart of fireworks was wheeled by him and into the square. The colorful wagons he had escorted had sold their bounty to the party-planners and had already cleared out of the streets entirely. Their organization really did serve them well.

Brent's clan of boring wagons still littered the squares with their produce and clothes. Fíli made his way by them and winced at the unintelligible yelling coming from the groups of people running the wagons. They were clearly upset about something and he didn't care to find out.

He had his own problems.

After checking Kíli's room for the fifth time, he sighed and sat on his brother's bed. His rucksack was still in the corner with his few belongings strewn across the floor. The quiver was gone and the bow, and his shoes. By all accounts and measures it looked like Kíli had gone out shooting and didn't plan to be out long.

_So then where are you?_

Fíli was soon called off to help prepare the square for the following day's festivities. He tried to focus on the work instead of his brother, but the nagging feeling in his chest never left. Even as the moon set over the village and Fíli was instructed to go to sleep, a million thoughts circled his head like a swarm of bees.

* * *

The stones were clear just as the sun said its last about the day. Millí and Ori's hands were bleeding lightly and Aaron was as stoic as ever. Kíli had long been silent and was on his knees in the dirt with is head hanging loosely on his neck.

"Give him some water," Daren grumbled at one of the guards, "If he dies now there would've been no point in sparing him in the first place."

Kíli felt a hand pull his hair so that his head fell back and water hit his face, choking him and going up his nose. He coughed and sputtered in surprise, blinking the water from his eyes. When he had his breath back, he was forced to drink again, but this attempt he was ready for and guzzled as much water as he could. Then they left him to his solitude.

The reason Kíli was on his knees was because he had recently discovered standing was exceptionally difficult. While they were working, bright colors had blurred his vision and the world felt like it was tipping. He nearly collapsed, but covered it by lowering himself down to work on the lower layer of fallen stones. And that's where he stayed, even as the others walked about to get bread and drink.

"Come on," their old friend Rod shouted, "Back to the wagon with ye."

Millí, Ori, and Aaron were lined up with arrows pointed at their backs. They spotted Kíli still on his knees and picked him up by the hair. "Are ye deaf?" the man asked, "I said, time ta go."

He thrust Kíli forward who stumbled and reeled until he nearly fell to the ground again. He could barely tell which way was up, but he closed his eyes against the dizziness and pain and moved forward until he reached his companions. He was wedged between Aaron and Ori and together they made their way back to the wagon. Kíli kept his eyes closed and his head drooped, but their footsteps guided him where he needed to go. The advantage of being a hunter and an archer, he could function pretty well without his eyes open.

Soon they were pulled back into the purple prison and pushed pass their friends who were shouting their names in relief and worry. Kíli fell clumsily into his spot and couldn't fight the yelp of pain as his back his the bars.

"Kíli, what's the matter?" Bofur's voice called out to him. Whoever was charged with Kíli chained his hands up again and left, kicking the foot of one of the prisoners who swore at him as he passed.

"Kíli? Lad?"

Kíli whimpered in response and shook his head against the way the ground pitched underneath him, like a rocking ship. He was a dwarf, he hated water.

When did they get on a ship, anyway?

"Are we…" Kíli began, his words slightly slurred, "Are we on a boat now? When did—when d'we ge'on a ship?"

"Yer not makin' much sense, boy," Bofur answered, concern in his eyes. It was too dark to make out anyone's appearances, but Kíli felt sure everyone was looking at him.

_But why?_

Kíli let his head flop back against the bars and groaned. "E'rything is spinning. Are we spinning?"

Bofur chewed his lip and turned his face towards the dark mass he knew was Millí. "What did they do to the lad? He's completely nonsensical."

She shook her head with a frown. "They whipped him but…I don't know. He's dehydrated I think."

The wagon stayed relatively silent for some time with a few brief whispers to make sure everyone was okay. Gimli had found a way to slip out his gag, so he could talk freely with Millí and Ori. Kíli listened to them for a while as he tried to shut out the feeling that he was being turned upside down.

_What is wrong with me?_

He thought back to the way he'd been acting for the past week and winced, realizing how monstrous he'd been. Sleep was creeping its claws over his dazed mind, but he managed to stay awake just long enough to speak.

"Millí," he groaned, "Ori, Gimli, and Bofur. I've been horrible." He took a deep breath and tried to push the weakness from his voice. "Please forgive me. I don't know why I acted that way."

_I cursed my uncle. I cursed my brother. _

_How could I?_

A few of the villagers who were imprisoned with them exchanged glances, but in the darkness they went completely missed by the dwarves.

"Just go to sleep Kíli," Bofur said in response. "It's in the past."

Kíli wanted to say more, but he couldn't fight the darkness anymore. So he stopped fighting and fell into its blissful emptiness.

* * *

The festival was, in a word, sensational.

Fíli was so distracted by the dancers and music and colors that he nearly forgot his missing friends and his sick brother. People flooded the streets and flowers were thrown into the air. It was a phenomenal display, especially when the new king or mayor or whatever he was—Fíli did not know—paraded his way through the streets on a decorated horse. The people cheered and hollered and threw their petals in a burst of color. When they reached the square, the dancers blew fire into the air and twirled knives like they were made of feathers.

The day stretched on and the intensity didn't drop.

The crown Thorin had forged himself was placed on the man's head and then the feast began. The ale was limitless and free to take, so Fíli soon found himself quite inebriated. Girls of the village giggled and batted their eyes at him as he stumbled past and he found himself quite intrigued.

"You don't look like any dwarf I've seen," one of the girls, Yune, remarked. "You're so _handsome._"

Fíli raised his eyebrows and swayed a little on point. "You think so, do you?"

She giggled and touched his braid. "Yes of course."

He grinned widely at her and noted how cute her ginger ringlets looked when she laughed. He looked across the drunk, dancing crowd to see Brent looking dangerously angry about something. He narrowed his eye and was about to go see what was bothering the man so much, when Yune's hand turned his face back to her.

"I have an idea," she said with a glint of light in her eye.

_Well, consider me intrigued._

"Oh?" he used his best smolder, "and what would that be?"

"Well," she ran her finger down his forearm and then circled the rim of the pint with it, "This ale is good…" She looked up and smiled brightly so that Fíli felt he couldn't breath, "But I know where they've stashed some that's _much_ better."

Fíli felt his grin widen as the girl took his hand and dragged him through the crowd. Sure, her legs were longer, but what he lacked in height he made up for in enthusiasm.

They broke free of the crowd and stumbled through the streets, laughing heartily as they tumbled into walls and into each other. A fire dancer cartwheeled down the street with a lit torch in his mouth, making them pause and giggle in awe. Then she gripped his hand tighter and dragged him down an alleyway.

Fíli tried to keep his footing so that he wouldn't fall and embarrass himself in front of his new friend. His fingers brushed against the sides of houses he didn't recognize and his feet sloshed through puddles on the cobblestone. Yune's hair looked like fire.

_Pretty fire._

They came to a clearing and began to run through it.

"It's right up here," she told him in a fluttery voice, "not far."

He smiled at her as they staggered forward, but something made him stop. Yune nearly fell over when she lost Fíli's grip and turned to see him staring at the old whipping post in the middle of the circle.

"From the Second Age, I b'lieve," she said as-a-matter-of-drunken-factly. "Some real nice history there. Lotsa people flogged n'stuff. " She grabbed the yellow dwarf's hand and tugged it impatiently, "Now c'mon!"

But Fíli wouldn't budge. His eyes were locked on the arrows protruding out of the post.

"Someone's shot it," he said in a flat voice. Yune pouted her lips and frowned at the post.

"What a shame," she said, "Maybe someone's great great uncle got beat there once." She laughed and tugged on his arm again, but he ignored her and instead started moving towards the post. Even in his drunken stupor, a few steps brought the clarity he needed; he'd know those arrows anywhere.

_Kíli. _

He ran to the post now and touched his finger to the arrow. The first was split entirely down the middle by the second in expert precision. "You always were annoyingly good at archery," Fíli remarked with a smirk. Yune crossed her arms and stomped her foot.

"I don't understand what's so interestin' about one damned arrow," she complained, "There is _ale_ to be had, right in that cellar!" She gestured wildly at the dimly lit tavern just ahead. "Right there! Not three steps away! Do y'think ye can make it or not?"

Fíli didn't hear her. His eyes started examining the circle around them for any signs of his brother. He found none and sighed heavily.

"It's my brother's arrow," he told the now quite annoyed girl, "He's been missing since yesterday's night."

Yune dropped her arms and interest sparked in her eyes. "A mystery, eh?" she intrigued, "And we've got a clue? That's exciting."

Fíli sulked back to her and scanned the surrounding houses once again. "I don't know how we'd ever find him."

"Wait here," she said, "I'll go get some hot spiced wine and we can go for a manhunt. Sound like fun?"

Fíli grinned at her, the sobering effect of the arrow starting to wear off against the influence of alcohol and a pretty girl. "Yes, thank you."

She smiled brightly and started to walk to the tavern. Fíli looked back to the post and shook his head.

_What did you do, brother?_

"Uh…Fíli?"

The dwarf turned to see Yune frozen in her tracks with her back to him. She seemed to be starting at her feet for some reason.

"What is it?" he questioned, walking quickly to her side. He looked down and his face blanched immediately.

Blood.

It was dried to the cobblestone, but there was no mistaking it. There wasn't a lot, but enough. Any was too much, really. Fíli knelt down and ran his fingers over the stone. They soon found small black feathers stuck to the blood and into the cracks of the cobble. Raven feathers, to be exact.

The feathers Kíli used for his arrows.

"Something's not right," Fíli said in a shaky voice, "Something's happened."

There was no trail to follow and no further clues. Just the blood, the arrows, and the feathers.

"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly as Yune looked back to him with a bewildered expression, "I have to go. I have to go find my uncle."

And with that he was off, running as fast as he possibly could. He ran straight into the noise of the crowd, calling for his uncle. For anyone.

"Thorin! _THORIN_! Nori! Balin! Anybody!"

A rough hand grabbed him and he turned to find Dwalin towering over him. "Where's the fire, laddie?"

Fíli didn't realize he was panting so much until he tried to speak. "Blood," he gasped, desperate to make him understand. "Kíli's arrows. Something…something horrible's…happened. I…need to…find Thorin."

Dwalin gave him a grave nod and dragged him through the crowd until they reached the inn where Thorin was bunked. They tore through the door only to find Thorin already in the tavern area with a frantic group of dwarves around him.

"He's s'posed to be helpin' me sell the toys," Bifur urged, "But he's gone. He's been gone all day yesterdee as well."

"Gimli and Millí haven't returned either."

"Or Ori!"

"There's no way they'd all miss the festival!"

Thorin's eyes were wide as he tried to take in the teams of voices shouting in his direction. He turned to see Fíli and Dwalin approaching, but there was no relief there. Not when he read their expressions.

"Kíli?" he asked, a gleam of worry coming over him more prominently than before.

"I found his arrows in a post not far from here," Fíli explained, fighting the tightness in his throat, "There was blood tried to the cobblestone with his…with pieces of his arrows dried to it. He's gone, Uncle."

"Whoever got Kíli must've gotten to the others," Guinn growled, "They've got them all."

"Who would do such a thing, it just doesn't make sense!" Nori cried out.

"Where is he?!" another voice rose above the others. "WHERE'S THE DWARF PRINCE?"

The crowd parted as the towering Brent made his way through them, his face red with fury. "You," he pointed a large finger at Fíli, "I need you."

"I beg your pardon?" Thorin's noble voice snarled.

"My daughter's been taken by those sniveling slave rats, and I don't intend to let them get away with it. I need _this _one to show me through the mountain pass, I don't know the way."

Fíli blinked in shock as the room fell silent.

"Slave rats?" Balin repeated in his gentle voice. Brent looked at him and his hard expression fell away ever so slightly.

"Those merchants that travelled with us here," he elaborated, "A bunch of rotten slavers, they are. Sell their cargo on the Greyflood River. It's how they afford all those flouncy silks."

"You allowed us to help _slavers_ through the Blue Mountains without telling any of us!?" Fíli shouted, feeling hot blood flood to his cheeks.

"They swore they had no one with them," Brent barked back, "We went through their wagons, we didn't find a soul. In case you haven't forgotten Master dwarf, we were not associated with any of it, my family and I. It's none of our business to tell you who you can and cannot take through the mountains and it is not _my _responsibility to do a background check on your travelling companions. But they have my daughter, and I will see her returned."

"How do you know?" Balin asked calmly.

Brent seemed to be eager now that they hadn't rejected him. "She's been gone for nearly two days now, every since the wagons went out. We sent her to stay with a friend for a night and she never returned. We thought we'd wait it out and see if she just made off somewhere, but she's gone. We found her shoe at the edge of the village trampled into the mud with their wagon wheels. I followed the tracks up as far as I could, but the paths split and the ground was dry and stoney, there's no sign of them in any which direction." His eyes filled with uncharacteristic desperation as he examined the room, "I can't go after them myself."

"I believe," Thorin began in a slow and careful voice, "That the men who took your daughter have some of our own as well." There was a rumble of noise behind him as the dwarves muttered in agreement. "We will help you."

Thorin's words seemed to set off a spark as the room began to move about. "Prepare a party of your own people, and we will prepare ours. Be ready to depart by sunrise."

Brent nodded and took off and Thorin turned to Fíli.

"We're going to get him back," he assured him, "Have courage."

Fíli nodded and looked about the room as the dwarves began to decide who would be joining the search party. "What should I do?"

"Get some Mallos, first thing," Thorin said gravely, dropping some coins into his hand. "Then pack your things. And your weapons. Get us both a pony and meet me at the kitchens in two hours time to pack provisions."

Fíli nodded curtly and Thorin was off into the thick of the crowd. Fíli ran into the streets just in time to see the first of the night's fireworks light up the sky. Its loud crack resounded through the air in a mighty brilliance. But the fiery color held no joy for him now.

_I'm coming for you Kíli. _His feet carried him as fast as he could through the streets and past the lights and music and laughter that once intrigued him.

_I promise._

* * *

_Alright, hope you liked it and a thanks to the previous reviewers!  
_

_Sorry about any typos/grammar errors :/ No time for proofing!  
_

_Comments = Ego cookies._

_Ego cookies = Production motivation._

_:D _

_Indulge me. Bake my ego cookies. _

_Or don't._

_Gonna write either way. _

_Til next time!_


	5. Story Guide (For the Forgetful)

**STORY GUIDE**

To help remind you who everyone is and what the disease does. Will update to include new characters as the story goes on. Cheers!

GOBLIN FEVER

(After you've read this, go back and read the poem in Chapter 4. It might be clearer and much more fun now for those of you who were struggling.)

Starts with initial contact of something Goblin-y getting into the bloodstream. Doesn't always happen, but if you're unlucky enough, you'll get infected.

First sign: Massive change in demeanor, typically to a much grumpier and miserable individual. Attitude so foul that historically it was feared that the victims would actually turn into goblins themselves. At this stage the fever hasn't officially started.

Fever begins and breaks up into five stages:

Dizziness and confusion. Achy body and sensitivity to touch.

Nausea and migraine. Stomach ulcers and sore throat can develop depending on severity of case.

Extreme chill. Coughing.

Hallucinations. Very short stage.

Fatigue.

After stage five, they victim slips into a comma until they die. How long they stay in the comma also depends on the severity of their condition. Can only be cured with Mallos, a gold flower.

SECONDARY CHARACTER GUIDE

Slaver Merchants

Demetrius – Cheery ginger leader.

Rod (Rodney) – Demetrius' son.

Daren – Usually the one with the whip.

Tobi – Friend of Rod and Tobi. Chubby with blonde hair.

Dwarves

Guinn – Gimli's mother.

Millí – Ori's cousin through marriage. Looks after him. Gimli love interest. Finest beard in all the land.

Era – Millí's aunt.

Slaves/Misc.

Aaron – Boy slave that moved stones on first day of Kíli's capture.

Aliza – Brent's daughter.

Brent – Head of not-slaver merchant family from original caravan. Intimidating fellow.

Avery – Brent's younger brother.

Kendrick – Brent's youngest brother.

Artemis – A slave scout.

Petry – friendly clothing merchant.


	6. The Viewing

_I'm sorry about the long wait for this chapter. For anyone that's ever experienced a tough finals week and the apathy that follows, I trust you understand that the struggle was real. I'll do better by you next time! But this chapter is also insanely long, so enjoy that._

_Happy reading, folks :)_

* * *

**5**

**The Viewing**

"If Fíli were here, he wuh demand that we a'least get pie for breakfast…At—at the ver'least."

"Lad you're actin' strange, jus' keep yer mouth shut," Bofur grunted.

_I'm not making sense? _Kíli chuckled to himself as he continued to shuffle his feet backwards. _This whole thing doesn't make any sense._

They had spent two days and three nights on the wagon after the first initial day when they cleared the rocks. At the dawn of the third day, the one they were currently in, they were told to get out. And now, a caravan of at least a hundred people and animals alike were all walking backwards as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do. The mules and horses didn't even complain, they just moved as their attendants led them. Organized. Like they had done it a thousand times before.

"Keep the pace up!"

They heard the whip crack but it didn't seem to hit anyone. Kíli's head lolled until he was looking at the clear sky above. Some birds flew overhead and Kíli's eyes narrowed.

"Gimli," he whispered, elbowing his friend eagerly, "Gim-a-lee_."_

"_What _Kíli?"

"Look." Somehow he managed to lift his arm and point his finger right where the birds were. His muscles ached horribly and dizziness made his brain feel fuzzy. But he pointed at the birds correctly the first time, so, good for him.

"What am I lookin' at?"

"Those birds 'nt movin' backwards. Should we tell s'mone?"

Kíli let his head roll so that he could see Gimli who was giving him a look that spoke for itself. "Kee," he said in a voice that was trying hard to be gentle, "I understand that you—uh—don't feel well."

"I feel like I fell downuh cliff."

"Right…well," Gimli moved closer and dropped his voice so that he came off sincere, "It's not that I don't care. Kíli, I do. If we were back home we would have dragged you to a healer weeks ago. But we've got a _lot_ of problems right now, and if you keep actin' funny then you're going to get into trouble. Maybe even get our friends in trouble. We can't have that, right?"

Kíli blinked at the ginger dwarf. Words, so many _words_ he just used. How could he be expected to comprehend all that chatter into a coherent thought?

"Hullo in there?" Gimli poked Kíli's forehead with his large pointer finger, making the prince flinch from the pain.

"Please don'do that."

Gimli frowned and his time pressed the entirety of his rough hand to Kíli's forehead. He then smiled and nodded in satisfaction. "Yer feverish, but not the worst I've seen. It should go away in a few days. Try to keep it together 'til then, alright?"

Kíli nodded dutifully though he wasn't quite sure why. It did, however, seem to satisfy Gimli who went on marching backwards with Millí and Ori.

"It's hot," Kíli noted to himself. Heat. That was easy to understand. Thinking hurt too much and no one seemed inclined to explain what was going on and even if they did he doubted that he'd be able to comprehend it anyway. So Kíli decided that from then on, thoughts were to be simple or they wouldn't exist at all.

_You've been captured._

_Immediate family not present._

_Whips hurt._

_Cooperate._

_It's hot._

"Ah, there you are!"

The other half of the caravan was waiting for them around the bend. Kíli began to turn around to look at them when the whip snapped over his shoulder.

"DON'T TURN AROUND!" Daren shouted.

Kíli blinked at him and then rotated so that he was still walking backwards. The mark made his already aching body throb with new vigor. He sighed to himself and resisted the urge to rub his shoulder while Millí tightened her lips and glared at Daren until she thought he'd been sufficiently eye-shamed.

They continued to walk the wrong way until the other caravan met them, walking forwards. "BREAK STRIDE!" Demetrius bellowed to his companions. Everyone sighed and chattered happily as they turned and faced forward again.

"Got a proper burn on m'neck that time for sure," Rod chuckled. Demetrius smiled at him and threw a fat arm around the boy's shoulders.

"You got my hair I'm afraid, and my glowing complexion."

"But not your belly," Hank grinned, giving his father's robust middle a jab. Kíli was momentarily transfixed with the way it jiggled and reached out his hand so that he could poke the belly as well.

"What'er you _doing?_" Bofur hissed, smacking his hand down. Kíli frowned and examined his hand for a moment and then shook his head.

"I…I don't know."

"Why don't you go sit down for a bit laddie? Get some water."

Kíli was about to obey when the slaves were suddenly rounded up into a tight circle. There were more slaves than what was just in their wagon, enough for perhaps three wagons. Upon further inspection, he found that a few of them were from the original caravan he led. Petry himself was standing a few paces away looking positively downtrodden.

"Come on, shoulder to shoulder, let's go. There, now that's nice."

Daren moved aside so that Demetrius could take his place with his sunny grin. "My valuable cargo, glad to see you've made it. Tomorrow marks the first viewing for the scouts from the Greyflood. We want you to look your best, so we will be stopping by a lake shorty to get you cleaned up and looking presentable."

Something hard was shoved into Kíli's hands. He looked down to find a broom with a combination of stiff bristles and feathers at the end.

"Until then, you will sweep behind us _thoroughly_ to ensure the discretion of our location. I'd explain the risk of disobeying, but I think by now most of you understand."

Kíli looked around at the crowd of slaves. Men and women, human and dwarf. No elves, too risky most likely. Some of them bore scars and bruises; all of them bore weary looks and dirt form the road. Some were clutching the hands of others.

_Odd how that works. _Kíli looked over to see Millí and Gimli's hands locked. He chuckled a moment and folded his arms tightly over his chest to ward off some of the aching in his bones. _We're all young and strong. We could possibly overthrow these merchant people. But we've got too much to lose. _

* * *

_Three days later. _

"What happened here?" Fíli whispered, taking in the harried mess in front of him. What looked like a stage was torn down into the dust. Footsteps littered the area around them; apple cores and traces of many people being crowded into one place at one time were strewn throughout the grass. Thorin's expression was dark as his blue eyes scanned the clearing.

"This is where they, uh, viewed us," Ori responded. His eyes flitted nervously over the area as if he expected Daren himself to come popping out from behind the wreckage.

"Viewed you?"

Ori's fingers started to rub the hem of his shirt nervously until Nori placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "There's scouts who travel ahead and check on the…cargo…and then run back and give reports to the buyers on what to expect."

Fíli's hands tightened on the reins and his teeth ground together until they threatened to break. "Like some sort of property. That's sick."

Thorin nodded gravely and eased his pony forward to get a better look at the scene. The sun had set and the moon began to take over the light of the sky, casting eerie shadows over the land. Ori was whimpering while his brother whispered gruff comforting words to him quietly. Fíli followed close behind Thorin and tried not to let his rage consume him. Instead he looked for signs, anything really to suggest where his brother had been.

"What did they make you do, at the viewing?" Brent asked in a dark voice. He had dismounted from his horse and was examining the ground closely. Fíli knew what he was asking for; had they been humiliated? Were they forced to perform for their captors and sacrifice their dignity? Ori started to answer when Fíli caught sight of something far more intriguing.

"Thorin, look."

He urged his pony forward until he reached the base of a thin tree, where he promptly dismounted and ran to examine it.

"Kíli," Thorin confirmed curtly. The tree was stuck with arrows that descended in a neat line. The spacing was a little uneven and the straightness of the line was off, but it was impressive work nonetheless.

"Not his best work," Fíli noted, freeing one of the arrows from the bark.

"He uh…he didn't want to do it," Ori said in a small voice. "But they threatened him. They said they'd kill me. He was having such a hard time comprehending everything, that when they uh…made it simple for him, he did it." Fíli looked at Ori, who's face was red with shame. "They were very impressed with him, even though he wasn't entirely well."

Fíli snapped the arrow in his hand and threw it into the trees with an angry growl. He felt Thorin's hand on his shoulder and ground his teeth together before saying something he'd regret. He stormed off the further examine the area when he came to another post. There was the smell of blood in the air and the sign of tents and wagons. He picked through the overgrown grass towards the post until his foot connected with something hard in the grass. He looked down only to have his heart drop when he saw what it was.

Thorin, who was watching Fíli with worry from afar, watched as he retrieved something from the grass. The young dwarf stood there frozen, staring at the object before running towards them.

"Thorin!" he called out, his voice cracking with worry. "Look. Look at this!"

Thorin swung down from his horse and ran towards his panicked nephew until they nearly collided.

"Steady boy, what is it?"

Fíli thrust the object at Thorin, though his fist was tightened around the chain too tightly to let it go. It was Kíli's stone necklace that his father had given him many years ago. A similar one hung from Fíli's neck as well. Thorin kept his expression careful so that he wouldn't worry Fíli, but in truth, the sight of that necklace made his blood turn cold.

"He never would have taken this off. Not willingly. And look—" he held up the chain to Thorin's eye line so he could see the two broken links. And blood, dried to the metal. "It was broken. And there's…there's blood."

"Fíli…"

Before Thorin could speak further, Fíli turned to look at Ori, who's eyes were brimming with tears. "What did they do, Ori? What did they do to my brother?"

* * *

_Two days previous._

The sun had risen and the clearing was now full of merchants in various arrays of clothing and ethnicities. The scouts were marked by dark clothing, light packs, and swift horses. Smaller strings of traders lined the clearing with all sorts of exotic things to consume, don, smoke, and admire. Some things could be treated to all four. In addition to the company were businessmen from local villages in search of early deals on the people and things alike. Someone was playing a mandolin somewhere in the crowd of diverse clothing and glittering goods.

In comparison, the slaves looked rather dull in their road-weathered clothes. At the lake they had bathed quickly with their clothing on so that the dirt could be scrubbed away from both skin and cloth at the same time. Presently the captives were waiting at the base of a flight of makeshift stairs leading up to a platform that was taller in mind that it was in physical stature.

The captives were given food and drink, then put into two neat lines with their hands shackled in front of them, their feet linked by a short chain, and a heavy wooden sign hung around their necks with numbers and symbols on them.

"I feel…sleepy…" one of the men slurred.

"If they're gon'make us sing, they v'made a terrible mis-ake," Kíli noted drunkenly. Whatever the merchants had slipped their captives to make them complacent worked tenfold on Kíli. Now he was confused, tired, _and_ docile. "I-mnot even warmed up yet."

Bofur gave him a large, slow nod in convicted agreement. Kíli shook his head at him a little too vigorously.

"Don'worry Bof, you 'ave a be-u-fool voice."

Bofur smiled and let his eyelids droop a little. "Thanks, Kíli. Bu'you, bu'you _also_ 'ave a—"

"Oh would you two _shut up?"_ Daren groaned. Rod laughed from the other side of the line.

"How much of that stuff did you give them, Daren?"

"More than enough, apparently."

Bofur swung his head to look at the whip holder. "Ey, 'ey you, yer boot's n'tied."

Daren looked down at his perfectly laced boots, eliciting a large snort of laughter from Bofur and then from Kíli, which caught on to the surrounding slaves. Daren rolled his eyes and faced away from them with his whip clutched tightly in his hand.

"If this were any other day…"

"But it isn't," Rod cut him off with a smile. "So just relax and enjoy it."

Demetrius was saying something in his jolly booming voice that Kíli would have to be hard pressed to listen to. Something in the back of his head was crying out to him, but for all intent and purposes he was deaf to it.

A girl with sandy colored hair with hollow cheekbones was first to be pushed onto the platform. Kíli remembered seeing her in Brent's collection of merchants, who, he had also realized, weren't in attendance. She normally carried his steely expression and iron silence, but now her eyelids drooped and her feet dragged with the weight of the drug.

The two lines followed her lead until they were arranged on the dual platform with one line slightly higher than the other. Kíli, Bofur, and Millí were all in the front line with various men and women, with Ori and Gimli somewhere behind them.

"Come take a look, come take a look. All quality imports, I assure you. All in decent age range as well."

"How many do you have?" a small-but-aloof looking scout inquired. The nagging thing clawed at the mellow haze blocking Kíli's head, but he couldn't sort it out, no matter how much he screwed up his face.

"Thirty," Demetrius responded sadly, "We had more, but the orcs and goblins in these parts have been truly an unexpected predicament. And you should _see_ the size of their snakes. Absolutely astounding."

The scout cocked an eyebrow at the plump man. His eyes were pale blue and glittered like the diamonds he no doubt coveted. "You normally carry fifty by the first viewing, have the roads been so malevolent?"

A gleam shone in Demetrius' eyes at that and a small smile crossed his lips. "Well, some we lost to the road. You know our stock Artemis; we only sell quality fair. Sometimes a bad apple needs to be…_plucked _from the bushel."

The scout nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

_Apple? These guys don't trade apples._

Kíli shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, but only managed to make himself dizzy. If it weren't for being tightly packed between his companions he probably would've lost his balance entirely.

It was then that someone grabbed his jaw and tugged it upwards. He would've started if his limbs didn't feel like lead at his side. He gazed into the face of a dark-clad scout with grey hair who was scrutinizing his face with a cold eye. More of his kind moved about the line; poking, prodding, and otherwise examining the captives and then scribbling down notes. Demetrius and his kin eye the notes with a certain anxiety that didn't become their jolly faces. They would mumble things like 'thin', 'tall', 'rare coloring', and so on so forth as if they were inspecting pottery. Kíli could do nothing but limply obey their jabs and tugs, even when one lifted his shirt and ran her hand over the sore healing marks on his back.

"These feel fresher than most, is he ornery?" she asked. Demetrius chuckled and shook his head.

"Strong and ill-tempered, but very pliable. Didn't take well to the initial waking, as he is one of our newest acquirements, but I think we've since broken him in." The scouts eyed him skeptically and the red man promptly walked up to Kíli and shoved two fingers right into his mouth.

_What in Durin's name—_

The dwarf screwed up his face and tried not to gag. He didn't like the feeling of those chubby fingers pressing on his tongue like that.

_They taste like meat. He probably had an entire roast to himself before this._

"See?" the man said to the observers, "Perfectly harmless. He'll only fight if you demand him to." And with that he removed his fingers and wiped them on Kíli's shirt before moving away so that he wasn't blocking the view of the slaves. Kíli examined the wet mark on his shirt in confusion before looking up to meet the icy eyes of Artemis.

"A dwarf, you have a few I see," he remarked, though not to Kíli. "How did you acquire them?"

"The Blue Mountains are swimming with the likes," Rod answered casually, "Though not easy to capture. These folks were amongst us on the journey to the festival in Brendor."

"He's noble," Artemis stated bluntly, running his eyes along Kíli's jawline and clothes. "More so than the others. All of whom from the line of Durin from what I can tell."

"That's exactly right!" Demetrius chuckled, "But not soft."

"No," the scout agreed. A different one nodded towards Ori, "Save for that one over there."

The merchant smiled and waved his hand. "He's a scholar, that one. Sharp as a arrow."

The woman who'd found Kíli's wounds frowned and shook her head. "Not especially desirable for slaves, Master Demetrius. Surely you know that."

"I know that buyers like variety," he snapped, though he was eyeing Ori differently now. Artemis was the one, however, to bring the attention back to Kíli.

"He's archer, yes?"

He slapped the muscles on Kíli's forearm, causing him to flinch internally.

"Aye, a damned good one too." The merchants seemed to welcome to change of subject openly. "Care for a demonstration?"

The scouts and costumers all murmured in agreement and before Kíli could comprehend what was happening he was being pulled from the line and led to a space beside the platform where Daren and Tobi were busy clearing people out of the way. Demetrius unlocked the shackles on his wrist as Kíli stared blankly at his hands, which a moment ago were empty and now possessed a bow and quiver.

"Alright, now be a good lad and fire an arrow into that tree over there." The tradesman spoke to Kíli in a kind, soft voice. Kíli couldn't help but smile a little, like a child with a new toy.

_Kíli, focus. Something's wrong._

"Come on boy," Dem urged, "On with it."

One of the more cautious scouts in the back of the clump spoke up with, "Are you sure it's a good idea to give him a weapon?"

"He's fine, he's fine. Not a worry, my friend."

Kíli blinked at the bow and then up at Demetrius. "I…I don'understand."

The ginger man's smile had a trace of danger behind it now. "Fire an arrow into that tree. Simple. So that these nice people can see how good you are."

"…No. I…I won't."

Kíli shook his head and tried to give the weapon back, but no one would take it. He didn't know what it was or why but the idea of using the bow in front of these people made him feel sick. More sick than he already felt. A different, angry kind of sick.

The master's eyes flicked to the scouts and their note scribbling. When his eyes returned to the dwarf prince they were filled with more danger than before. But they were only there a moment before returning to his observers. "Well, this is rather a boring setup we've created, is it not? No wonder he doesn't want to shoot."

In his daze he didn't know what was amiss until he looked across the way to find a nervous Ori standing in front of the tree that he had been told to shoot at. Daren chained the poor dwarf straight to the trunk so that he couldn't get away or move even if he tried. Kíli's eyes were wide open, his head struggling to make connections.

_Ori is friend._

_Protect._

Demetrius was looking at Kíli again but before the dwarf could ask, one of the merchant archers fired an arrow that struck two feet above the little dwarf's head. "No!" Kíli choked out, nearly swallowing his own tongue in shock. "We're going to play a game," Demetrius told him. "First one to the dwarf wins.

Kíli's sweaty palms gripped the bow in his hand tightly.

_Think Kíli. You have to clear your head._

_Why are they doing this?_

_What's happening?_

_Simple thoughts._

_Ori's in trouble._

_Just shoot._

_Protect him._

The dwarf nodded and got into position. His vision swam and the world pitched back and forth as he drew back the arrow. So much so that he had to close his eyes a moment to let the dizziness pass.

_Don't fail._

The string snapped like a whip and the arrow sunk deep into the tree trunk, just a finger width below the previous arrow. A few pleased murmurs rippled through the crowd of onlookers. In the blink of an eye the merchant archer fired an arrow just a foot above Ori's head, causing Kíli's heart to lurch. Ori looked up at the feathered shafts and blinked thickly at them.

"Your turn."

Kíli nodded and fired below the previous arrow so closely it tore one of the feathers off. His opponent responded by firing a hand's width away from the top of his friend's head. Kíli responded faster this time, once again keeping his arrow as close to the previous one as possible.

_What happens when we get too close?_

As if to answer his thoughts, the archer shot his arrow a breath away from Ori's scalp. The crowd had gasped in shock a moment before clapping politely. Ori blinked several times and Kíli thought he could see tears in his eyes.

"I…I can't—"

"Well," Demetrius offered, "Perhaps Jasper could take another turn if you don't feel up to it?"

"No!"

Jasper drew his string back and directed his shot at the bridge of Ori's nose. His hand released the tension, but the arrow was struck sideways the moment it left the bow. Everyone followed the direction of the projectile to Kíli who was knocking another arrow. Kíli shook his stared at Jasper a moment before following the direction of the projectile to Kíli who was knocking another arrow. He shook head and tried not to tip over. "No, I-I'll do it. Don'hurt 'im." And with that, he shut out the shocked stares of the crowd and eyed the miniscule space between the merchant's shaft and Ori's head. His ears were ringing with the disorientation, which was never a good sign.

_You can do it. You have to do it._

He remembered Fíli's advice to him when they were in training.

"_Don't think to much. You fight better when you take from your instinct."_

So he inhaled and drew back. Exhaled and released.

The arrow plummeted into the bark of the tree, taking some of Ori's hair with it. Another centimeter and Ori would have been toast.

The scouts nodded and mumbled and scribbled more notes. Kíli was re-shackled and put back in line with Ori not far behind him. Artemis approached again and glared at the smug satisfaction on Demetrius' face. "He's has a temperature," he said curtly, as if that somehow discredited the impressive archery display. The tradesman waved it off with a chuckle and Artemis slunk past him to Millí down the line.

"What's this?"

The scout examined the wooden sign around Millí's neck and then let out a quiet chuckle.

Rod looked exasperated. "What is it now, Artemis?"

"Well Master Rodney," Artemis began, "You have this slave here marked as a male, when she is most evidently a _female_ dwarf?"

The merchants gave him an incredulous look. "How can you be so sure?" Another added, "It has a beard!"

Artemis' eyes shone and he gave them a small smile. "I'm half a dwarf myself, and have been my whole life. This one's a she, no doubt about it."

The merchants quieted and tried to look nonchalant. If this was how all viewings went, Kíli was sure that Demetrius' nerves would give out on him before they ever reached the Greyflood.

After a while the scouts cleared out of the gathering with their notes in their packs and their horses aching to run. The slaves had to stand on the platform until the day ended. By then countless people had poked and prodded their share and the drug began to wear off, so the they the captives were swept away from the platform and chained into camp. Kíli almost welcomed being shackled to a tree. His whole body ached more than ever from standing rigid all day and the drug was giving him a terrible headache. The moment he was allowed to, he sat down and put his head against the tree to fall asleep.

* * *

_Earlier that day._

Today marked the third day that Fíli and his company were on the road pursuing the merchants. Their speed was fast, but not as fast as some would like. Amongst the company was Thorin, of course, as well as Dwalin, Bifur, Guinn, Nori, Oin, and Era who was Milli's aunt. Brent brought only himself and his brothers Avery and Kendrick. More than just Brent's daughter had been taken by merchants, but everyone—men and dwarf included—was needed back in Brendor. So the company took who could be spared and who could travel fastest.

And so far they were making beautiful progress. Or so they thought.

"It seems they lost some of their numbers here," Bifur observed. They had reached a clearing with thick clusters of trees surrounding it. They marked a large grey-blue stone with a charcoal 'X' and began to sort out which way to go. "Most of the footprints lead this way."

The company kept their eyes to the ground to make sure they were following the same path as the criminals to the best of their abilities. Fíli was so preoccupied with finding some sign of Kíli that more than once Thorin had to catch up to him and make him wait for the rest of the company.

"You have to stick with the group, Fíli," Thorin reprimanded him, "You can't attack without them and if something attacks _you_, you'll want us there to stop them."

_I can handle myself._

That's what he wanted to say. But he didn't, because he knew better.

Didn't make it easier to keep quiet though.

_Please be all right, Kíli. _

_You have to be all right. _

They traveled late into the night until their eyes could barely stay open. At one point it seemed that the merchants had changed their direction, but they were all too exhausted to think about it.

Why didn't they think about it?

They trudged on until Thorin finally declared that they rest at the next clearing. "Wait a moment," Fíli grumbled, squinting against the now rising sun. "We…we've been here before."

He was right. In the middle of the clearing sat the stone with the charcoal 'X' mark on it. Exhausted as he was, Fíli found the energy to scream in frustration.

"We've been going in a circle!" he roared.

"How is this possible?!" Brent demanded. "We've left this clearing a full day ago. How could we go the wrong way for such a long time?"

"Everyone needs to calm down," Thorin bit through his teeth. He was trying hard not to look discouraged, but the lines in his forehead betrayed him. "Obviously we have fallen for some sort of trick."

"Those slippery bastards," Guinn cursed.

At Thorin's command, the company dismounted and set up camp. Brent grumbled but did not flat out argue, which said something about how exhausted he must've been. Fíli, however, wasn't ready to rest.

"Thorin, we have to keep moving," he urged in a hushed tone, "We've lost another day. We can't stop now, we have to go!"

"And where do you suggest we go, Fíli?" his uncle reasoned. "We fell for this trick because we were overly exhausted. There's no use trying to work out our error while everyone is nonsensical with sleep depravity. Not to mention the ponies have suffered their saddles for too long."

"Bu—"

"You can take first watch," Thorin cut him off, "Should be easy with the sun coming up." He placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "I know you aren't ready to sleep yet. But we need our wits about us as well as our strength. Slave drivers are cunning, we can't afford another mistake."

And with that, Thorin left his nephew to wallow in his misery. He didn't dare look behind him to see the way Fíli's eyes shone with worry and fear. He needed to be strong. A leader.

But _Kíli. _

"I promise I'll get you home," he whispered quietly. "I promise Kíli."

* * *

_Earlier that night._

Kíli was asleep. He was. For a sweet, blissful moment of peace he was allowed to sleep. He couldn't recall any dreams though he remembered his brother more than once. He missed him. He was worried about him. Fíli always knew how to get them out of trouble once Kíli had gotten them in. Now he was on his own.

But at least he was sleeping. A welcome relief from all the dizzy confusion and aching muscles and hunger and misery. Dark, blissful nothingness.

"No!"

Someone was screaming.

"No! Kíli! KILI WAKE UP!"

Sleep never lasts long.

"Kíli, HELP ME!"

* * *

_Woot woot, another chapter down. Hope you liked it! Once again, sorry for the wait._

_Quick Poll: Would you prefer shorter chapters with faster updates or do you like it as it is?_

_Reviews make me happy!_

_Til' next time loves._


	7. Property

_Alright so I'm compromising. My original chapters were half as long as these ones I've been putting out. So I'll try to keep them long and meaty, but if it's going to take me more than a week or two to write, I'll shorten the chapter so that you guys don't have to wait forever. Fair?_

_And for those confused by the timeline in the last one, sorry. I have a full timeline/map thing that determines where each part of the story happens, so just trust me. _

_**TIP: In this chapter, the events of Fili's story are happening about two days ahead of Kili's storyline.** _

_Thanks for all who reviewed and happy reading!_

* * *

**6**

**Property**

Thorin awoke from his restless sleep with a stiff back and a sore everything. He knew he smelled badly and if that were the case his companions smelled even worse, and there was mud caking the side of his face that had found the ground during his rest. Speedy travel was taxing business, make no mistake about it.

But there was something he couldn't shake; the knowledge that wherever his youngest nephew was, he had it much, _much_ worse than they.

The thought of his sister's son sick and dragged through the mountains in chains made his blood boil beneath his skin. The type of anger he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Fíli was asleep nearby, though the expression etched into his features suggested it was hardly restful. Thorin sighed when he looked at him.

_Hardly more than a child. _

He rose stiffly and popped his joints, suppressing a loud groan as he stretched out his back. Brent's eyes flicked over to him a moment before returning watchfully to the trees.

"I can take watch now," Thorin told him in a whisper. The company was still asleep and the ponies were not fully recovered, so they would just have to make allowances.

"Very well," Brent said coldly. Thorin forced himself up and fastened his cloak before taking the weathered man's perch on the rock. Brent was trying to settle in but Thorin knew that the man's mind was on other things.

"What's her name?" he asked as he scanned the trees. "Your daughter, the one those vermin took?"

Brent stilled a moment and then answered, "Eliza."

Thorin nodded. "Well, if she's with Kíli, I'm sure he's watching after her to the best of his abilities."

"Cold comfort," Brent responded, though not unkindly. "You're nephew is the dwarfling with the dark hair I imagine. He's talented but…seems rather reckless."

Thorin nodded a little, "That he can be, I suppose."

Brent was quiet another moment. "Eliza's a strong girl. She'll be able to handle herself I reckon. As far as your nephew's condition, I am sorry. I've only seen the fever once before and I wouldn't wish it on anyone."

_Well that's no comfort at all._

Thorin allowed his companions to sleep for another three hours or so until the sun had slid past its peak. He woke Fíli last, hoping to give his nephew a few more minutes of rest before they took to the road again.

:"Do we even know where we're going?" Era asked, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

Avery ducked through the trees and found the path they had followed back to the clearing. "Obviously not this way."

The company spread out and tried to look for any signs that the merchants had gone any other way.

"Here!" Nori called, "These footprints are leading away."

"Those are the same one's we followed the first time, laddie," Dwalin groaned. Nori frowned and tried to hide his blush.

"Well there has to be something that we haven't already followed unless we're all just chasing our tails here," Kendrick reasoned.

Fíli woke up to Thorin's hand on his shoulder. "It's time, lad."

_Merciful Aule above, my back._

Fíli had never ridden a pony for so many consecutive days and the effect on his body was unpleasant to say the least. For a moment he forgot all about his brother and why he was there lying in the dirt and just prayed that his back would support his weight in the time to come.

"What are we doing?" he asked through gritted teeth. Thorin smiled at him sympathetically, wincing at his own soreness himself.

"Looking for what path to take."

Fíli nodded and forced himself to his feet, allowing himself a good long stretch until all bones were popped properly into their respective joints. He then hobbled to the edge of the forest to examine the tracks they had followed back to the clearing.

_Something is odd about this._

One thing was certain. There was a trail leading away and one coming back. But no other markings to suggest they went another way.

_Are we all just going in circles, then?_

He stared down at a particularly muddly point of the road and froze.

"Wait a minute…"

Meanwhile, Thorin was checking the trees and leaves for any signs of people. It was a fruitless examination.

"I think I have it!"

Fíli came rushing out of the trees with a wide smile on his face. The company turned to him with hopeful looks.

"I found Kíli's bootprint, I'd know it anywhere. There's the Durin crest etched into the heel, just like mine. We trained together and would have to track each other in the forest all the time. And when I looked at his footprint this time, the way it had shifted the dirt was all wrong."

A few of the dwarves blinked, but so far no one had caught Fíli's point.

"They were walking backwards," he said desperately. "That's why they're numbers decreased a bit, because they split up. One half walking forwards on one side of the mountain, and the other walking backwards."

"It fits," Guinn agreed, "But how is it possible for an entire caravan of people _and_ animals to walk backwards for an entire day? That just seems unrealistic."

"They're very organized, they are," Bifur said with a heavy nod. "If anyone could pull such a trick, it would be them."

"They must have found a way to hide their footprints at the point where the two halves met so that we followed the one side all the way back here without noticing the alternative," Fíli added.

"Good work," Thorin told him, "We'll follow the forward path again and stop at the half-way point and examine the road. Keep a sharp eye for any signs of someone leaving the path."

* * *

"Kíli, _help_ me with this!"

That was Gimli's voice. The commotion had the entire population of slaves on alert, but not many could move to help. Kíli worked hard to get his brain to connect what the issue was at hand.

He stared hard a moment before realizing that Millí was being dragged away by three merchant guards while Gimli and Ori were fighting with all their might to keep her with them.

"Let me go you miserable—"

Kíli leapt to his feet and ran towards the three guards, only to be stopped short by the shackles on his wrists. He lashed out with his legs, effectively taking one of the men—Tobi, in fact—out at the knees. The boy cursed and threw a punch, which Kíli managed to dodge.

"C'mon lads, be good," one of them grumbled, trying to twist Millí out of the grasp of her friends.

"Leave her alone!" Ori cried.

"Get. _Off!"_ Millí clamped her teeth down on her captor's arm, causing him to scream and lash out. He dropped her, but a well-aimed kick sent her sprawling backwards. Gimli roared and tackled the man while Kíli wrestled hopelessly with Tobi. Ori was attempting to pull the third off of Millí, but they were losing.

_What is happening?!_

Gimli was rolling around on the ground with the bloody-armed man until the slaver picked up a stone and struck the dwarf so hard that he fell unconscious.

"Gimli!"

Kíli pinned Tobi with his legs and had the boy's face shoved into the dirt. He flailed his chubby arms around but the dwarf took no notice. "Enough of this!" someone shouted. The group looked around to find Daren storming towards them with his teeth grinding. He reached down and scooped Millí up by the hair and thrust her into the waiting hands of two more merchants.

"Let the boy go," Daren ordered, pointing his finger at Kíli.

_What? What boy?_

_Oh. Oh yeah._

_Wait. No!_

"I won't. Not u'less you leave Millí alone."

Daren sighed impatiently, then promptly bent down and snapped Ori's index finger like a twig. The boy screamed and tried to pull his hand away, but the slaver held it firmly.

"I said, let him go."

Kíli released Tobi instantly, not trying to hide the tears that sprung to his eyes even as two men came up behind him to restrain his arms. Ori's sobs shook Kíli to the core, and Daren knew it. He could see the triumph in the man's eyes and it made him hate it more than ever before.

Tobi, on the other hand, was gasping for his breath on the sideline. But the moment he was able to stand he drove his boot into Kíli's ribs.

"Ye gonna pay fer whatcha did," he growled. He grabbed a fistful of dirt and pegged it at Kíli's face. Daren cleared his throat and addressed the dwarves.

"Now you understand that if you all don't behave, this one here loses all his precious little fingers. Do we understand ourselves?"

Millí had angry tears running down her face, but she no longer struggled against her captors. Satisfied, Daren released Ori and allowed the dwarfling to nurse his wound alone.

"Now," the whip-holder began, circling them dangerously. "First things first, someone scrape up that fat ginger one. When he wakes, dunk his head in a bucket of water until he learns that even breathing is a privilege now." Kíli made a sound of disbelief that caught Daren's eye. "A privilege we can very well take away."

They watched helplessly as the merchants dragged their unconscious friend away by the ankles.

"Ori, stop crying," Millí ordered in a wavering voice. He looked at her in shock a moment before seeing the desperation in her eyes. "_Please._"

He nodded and made the effort to choke down the sobs that racked his chest. Kíli's cheeks were wet with his own tears by that point. He was so afraid and confused and _exhausted_ but he didn't know why. He just saw commotion and jumped into the thick of it without thinking. And now his friends were being punished, when he was the prince and therefor supposed to protect them.

_I'm doing a horrible job._

Luckily he was a silent crier. Always had been. Fíli, in fact, was the one who had the loudest wail in all the Blue Mountains when they were kids. He almost never cried, but when he did, _everyone_ knew something was wrong.

"Now for you runt," Daren snarled, pointing his knife at the restrained Millí.

"P-please don't h-hurt'er," Ori sniffled.

"See? I don't get it," the man laughed with his friends, "They're using 'her' as if it's all right as rain." He gripped Millí's chin and forced her to look at him. "I just don't see it."

He kept her face in his hand but twisted it so that she was looking at the crowd. "Do you see it, boys?"

A few chuckled and others shouted their respective negative comments. Of the few who were present, nearly all of them shook their heads back and forth.

"See? Must be the beard…" Daren looked the dwarf girl over again with his nose scrunched up. "Eh, maybe not. Sorry lass, you might just be ugly."

"Is that supposed to insult me?" Millí hissed.

Daren laughed at that. "Does it not?"

"I've seen your taste as we've been travelling. If they're your standard of beautiful than the farther I am from it the happier I'll be."

The crowd _oo'ed_ and laughed at her defiance. "You watch yourself whelp."

Millí leaned forward with fire spewing from her eyes. "You let me go and I bet I could take your head off in combat. _That_ is beautiful. Your perception of how I look isn't worth a dusty shit to me."

Kíli thought she was going to be hit for certain, but Daren simply gave her a menacing smile. "Well," he began, stroking her hair; "We'll see how many dusty shits your looks mean to you then."

The man snapped his fingers and Millí was sat in a chair and bound tightly enough that she couldn't move her arms or legs.

"Stop," Kíli moaned, "What are you going to do to her?"

They ignored the dwarf prince entirely as an old man emerged from the circle of merchants that had formed around Daren and Millí. He carried a sharp razor in his hand that flashed in the evening light. Kíli had to strain his neck so that he could see what was going on between the cluster observers. Rod appeared by Daren and the man with a wide grin on his face.

"Behold!" he announced with open arms, "The dwarf version of a woman." He smiled affectionately at Millí and tugged one of the braids in her beard. "I have to admit I'm a teensy bit jealous of your zest for facial hair. I've got whiskers but it all grows in patchy, wouldn't you believe it? Looks utterly ridiculous."

Millí narrowed her eyes at him, but her expression was one of confusion. Rodney had a way of making anyone and everyone feel like he was trying to be their friend, much like his father.

_Slave mongers have to be charming I suppose._

"Just leave me alone," Millí told him.

"Ah well see, we were going to do this in private to avoid the spectacle but you and your friends had to pitch a fit so here you are." Rod smiled at her again and turned to the old man. "Are you ready then, Dan?"

The old man nodded and stepped closer to Millí with his blade pointed at her neck. Ori could barely stand it.

"No! Millí!"

"The lad's right, Danny," Rod said, "Properly, properly of course." A small girl was standing by with a tray of supplies that Kíli couldn't make out. Rodney took a cloth from her and draped it over Millí with flair. "There. Just like the real thing."

Dan nodded and took Millí's face in his weathered hand. She jerked away but Daren shook his head at her. "I'll cut his fingers right off let me remind you. I have no reserves about it."

Millí seemed to be defeated by that and sat still even as the old man took up scissors and cut away the length of her beard. The braids and beads and feathers that were the pride ship of her family fell into the dust and forgotten like twigs and leaves. Kíli watched in horror as Dan worked and Millí stared blankly ahead. He started brushing something all over her face when someone's rump blocked Kíli's view. He could listen though, as the men jeered and the women laughed lightly at the absurdity of it all. The whole time Kíli's face felt hot with embarrassment that wasn't his own.

_Poor Millí._

"There, all better! Now Helen, take her away and finish up."

Ori lifted his head, hoping to catch his cousin's eye as the crowd dispersed. "Millí? Millí!" But her back was to them as they dragged her off, so they couldn't see the extent of what had been done. Kíli's eyes were trained on the chair until he noticed Daren and Rodney staring at the two remaining dwarves.

The whip holder pointed at Ori and snarled, "Your turn, you whiny little weasel."

The man restraining the dwarf stood him up and pinned his arms behind him. "No! _No! _Let me go!" Daren stalked over until his nose was an inch from Ori's.

"You misbehave, you pay."

Kíli looked at the tears swelling in Ori's red eyes and the way his lip wobbled as he tried to find proper words. His left hand clutched his right protectively, where his index finger had swollen up to twice its size.

_He can't take this. He's too soft._

"I think six lashes should do the trick with this one."

Kíli's voice was clear over Ori's snivels. "No."

Daren rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "Oh would you shut up, you're next I promise."

The dwarf prince shook his head. "I said no."

Daren pointed his finger at him like a disobedient child. "You've got ten lashes coming to you already, don't push it _whelp._" With that he shoved Ori in the direction of an empty post for tying horses. The dwarf stumbled a little and whimpered. The sound was enough to break Kíli's heart.

"I'll take them," he said, pleading for the men to turn around. "I'll take Ori's, and mine." He had their attention. "Just don't hurt him anymore."

* * *

Fíli walked stiffly with his pony's bridle clutched in is hand. They decided that the animals weren't ready to be saddled so soon, so they had to take the road by foot. Even though it was slower moving, the walking did Fíli some good. It gave him a sense of accomplishment that he couldn't get while riding the pony. With his feet beneath him and each step propelling him forward, he _finally_ felt like he was getting somewhere.

Unfortunately not all the dwarves shared Fíli's more optimistic mood. Guinn had a permanent grimace set on her face that would not be deterred. "You know," Fíli began, "I've been thinking."

"I'll make sure ta get ya' a medal when we get home," Guinn said dryly.

Fíli smiled and walked closer to her. "We're dwarves of the Blue Mountains, royalty of Erebora and line of Durin. Gimli and Kíli and the others are probably really valuable to the slavers. And when you're carrying precious cargo, y'know, you take care of it." Guinn didn't respond, but Fíli could see the trace of a smile at the corner of her lips. He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "I'm sure the lot of them are huddled up in a cushioned wagon drinking wine and eating apples or something."

"Wouldn't that be a pretty sight," she managed a wry smile, "We storm in caked with mud and hardship and they're drunk and fat as ever."

Fíli laughed and shook his head. "Kíli always knows how turn on the charm when he needs it. I'm sure they're all fine, really. We're just torturing ourselves over nothing."

Fíli had managed to comfort himself, quieting the voice that tried to remind him that Kíli's illness could prevent such charm from happening. For that moment, he truly believed his brother was alright.

* * *

Kíli had a hard time keeping track of where his limbs ended and the others' began. They dragged him roughly over mud and stone as Ori cried out his name and Bofur tried frantically to reason with the men. In the commotion he tripped and fell to his knees, taking another man down with him. Someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged until he had found his footing again and stumbled forward with the crowd of merchants.

_What did I just do?_

They tore his shirt away and shoved him against the post before binding him to it with abrasive ropes. Now immobilized, the panic of his situation finally hit him like a wave. He felt so afraid he had to take deep breaths to avoid throwing up.

_Be brave. _

_Help Ori. _

Kíli pressed his forehead against the post and tried to calm himself down. If Fíli were here, Kíli was certain he'd be trying to take the punishment for him instead. Thorin would tell him to be brave. Being brave sounded so much easier when told through Thorin's stories. Now that he was strapped to a post unable to move or defend himself, bravery seemed to leave him completely. He was afraid.

_Don't think about it. _

"Let it be known," Rodney announced to whomever was listening, "We accept heroes into our folds here in our caravan. But we do not indulge them. There is no reward for martyrdom here. Let this boy be the example."

Daren had been checking Kíli's binds as Rodney spoke. When the ginger boy finished, the whip-holder knelt down and looked Kíli square in the eye with menace.

"I've been looking forward to this opportunity," he whispered, "Ever since we hauled your miserable body on that wagon. Your arrogance has been a thorn in my side every single day since, and now I finally get to remind you what you are." He stood and took a fistful of dirt, allowing it to funnel through his fingers onto Kíli's head. "Property."

Kíli closed his eyes and took more deep breaths.

_Don't think. _

_You're not here._

_How did I even get here?_

_Stop. Thinking._

He heard it before he felt it. The sound of the air cracking in half, and then white-hot pain that stretched from shoulder to hip. He sucked in air to cry out but bit it back, just as the second lash struck his skin. He ducked his head an held his breath.

_Don't make a sound._

The third strike landed at the nape of his neck down. By the fourth lash the whip was biting across marks it had already made. The fifth cut diagonally across his back and it was all he could do to choke down his gasp. Daren paused his flogging a moment, no doubt savoring the moment. In the meantime Kíli pressed his forehead against the post and ground it in as hard as he could bear. His back felt like it was on fire.

_Fíli. Fíli I wish you were here._

_Where is he?_

The young dwarf made the mistake of looking behind him to see what Daren was waiting for, when the seventh strike clipping the side of his face. He flinched and ducked his head against the post again and resolved to bite his lip to stop from shouting.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

The sound of the whip started taking on a wet quality.

Eleven.

Another pause. Tears streamed down Kíli's face from the stinging in his skin. He prayed like never before that his body could go into shock so he wouldn't have to feel it anymore. Twelve. He couldn't take much more of this. Thirteen. He also could taste blood, probably from biting his lips too hard. Also his ears were ringing, he was probably going to faint from holding back his breath so much.

_If I'm lucky._

By fourteen he reckoned there wasn't an inch of his back left untouched by the whip. By fifteen he realized he was wrong about that. Sixteen. He face felt hot and his ears were ringing louder than before. He also felt like he was going to be sick. But it was over. He had done it, and he hadn't cried out.

"And that concludes it," Rodney said with a clap of his hands. Kíli let out a broken sigh of relief as he rigid body went slack.

The air cracked and a fiery snake of pain erupted over Kíli's back. He wasn't prepared; it took him completely by surprise. The cry escaped his lips before he had time to stop it.

"Seventeen," Daren said simply, "We don't accommodate martyrs."

Kíli slumped against the post and ignored the calls of Ori and Bofur. The pain was too intense, it didn't feel real. He could feel the heat of his own blood on his skin and pondered if he might run out of it. Then someone untied his arms and he lurched sideways, getting sick in the grass.

"There, there," Rodney cooed, "Let it all out, it's over now."

Kíli turned his head to respond only to get instantly sick again. When it finally stopped, he dared not move from his crouched position lest he upset the wounds on his back or pass out. Rodney said something to someone and a moment later a young girl with Demetrius' flame-colored hair was kneeling in front of Kíli with a cup of water.

"Drink," she ordered. Kíli looked at her and blinked as his eyes swam. Her face doubled, tripled, and doubled again before he just closed his eyes against it and took the cup. He managed to finish the water and handed it back to her.

"What do you say?" The little girl was staring at him expectantly.

_She's a lil' young t'be givin' me cheek._

"Thanks," he grunted. She seemed satisfied and walked off towards the wagons. He watched her go until his eyelids drooped too low for him to see properly.

"Kíli." it was dwarf. A dwarf with dark hair, just like him. "Kíli, c'mon lad. Let's get you out of here."

"Mm," the prince moaned. His head rolled as he stared up at the dwarf. "Who're you?"

That seemed to surprise the dwarf. "It's Bofur, Kíli. C'mon, we've got to get you on your feet."

Kíli blinked and touched the top of Bofur's head. "Y'don have a hat."

"No, yer right, it's gone. Now we really need to go get you cleaned up."

"…eh."

Kíli hissed as Bofur helped him to his feet. The pain was so intense for a moment his vision went black. Bofur had a firm grip on his arm and refused to let him go. "Not far Kíli, just closer to the water. C'mon, that's a good lad. You're alright."

When they reached their destination, the young dwarf was spent. Everything he did was excruciating, and the dark was more and more tempting with every passing moment. He lay down in the grass and didn't know or care what other people did around him. He sighed as darkness crept into the corners of his consciousness offering him a blissful escape.

Or it would have.

Two things happened at once. One was that someone poured water over Kíli's back, making him gasp in pain and shock. The other was a loud crash and someone screaming.

"What's happening?!"

Before they could find out, all the slaves were being rounded up into a cluster while the merchants erupted into action. Bofur and Ori each took one of Kíli's arms and supported him on their shoulders. He hissed but didn't fight back as more screaming came from the front of the camp. The cause of the commotion became apparent as just as the slaves were being forced into the wagons.

_Orcs._

They were large and terrible looking. Everywhere they went they caused destruction, whether it was tearing down a wagon full of supplies or running a blade through an unprepared merchant. Kíli gulped in fear, realizing that they had no means to defend themselves if the slaves were attacked.

_It can't end this way. _

* * *

"Well, _now_ what do we do?"

That was the question of the hour. Fíli and the group had arrived at the halfway point and unfortunately; there was no sign as to where they all went. Night had fallen once again and the darkness did nothing to aid their search for footprints. It was as if the caravan had simply lifted its skirts and flew away without a trace. Baffling and impressive, but annoying more than anything else.

"We can't just go wondering into the forest at night without any idea as to where we're going," Dwalin growled. He swung his axe into the bark of an unlucky tree and used it as an armrest.

"Check the trees for any signs that someone passed by. They may have found a way to cover their tracks, but there's no way they could have left the entire forest untouched.

"I doubt we'll find anything," Avery sighed, "It's too dark. We don't even know if this is the point where they met up.

Fíli shook his head. "The path we followed didn't have Kíli's boot print. This is the first time I've seen it since we left the clearing. This _has_ to be it."

With that there was a great deal of grumbling, but everyone started searching. To their misfortune, the moon was too dim to yield any results. After a few hours, a pack of wolves could be heard howling in the nearby wooded area, which caused Thorin to call off the search until the sun had returned.

_More waiting. _

Fíli combed his hand through this hair in anxiety. At this rate the caravan was going to get too far ahead for them to catch up before it was too late. Either they'd reach the river, or sell Kíli into a village, or worse yet…

_Don't think about it._

The young dwarf subconsciously began toying with the pouch that contained the Mallos that he kept in the deep pocket of his coat. It was an incredibly expensive purchase, but it was going to save Kíli's life.

_If_ they could reach him in time.

And time was not a thing they had on their side.

After two hours of restless resting, Thorin finally convinced his nephew to get some sleep before they depart at first light. He set out his mat when something began moving in the forest.

"Oi, what is that?" Nori whispered. The sound wasn't that of a woodland animal. It's steps were distinct and harried, as if the creature was running.

"I don't know…an orc maybe?"

"A spy?"

Brent and his brothers had taken up their bows and were pointing arrows into the forest where the noise could be heard. What ever it was, it was running straight towards them. Dread filled Fíli up until he could practically taste it.

"Don't shoot until you see what it is," Thorin reminded them, "It could be a friend. Or a useful source of information."

The men grunted in reply and waited with keen eyes on the trees.

And then the most unlikely of creatures came tumbling out of the forest and into their clearing.

"No, don't shoot. Please!"

"What in Durin's name—"

Fíli laughed in disbelief and Nori leapt to his feet. The small mass that stumbled towards them now was covered in an alarming amount of dirt, twigs, and blood. But there was no mistaking that young face or that peculiar haircut.

"Ori? ORI!"

* * *

_Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Oh well._

_Hope you liked it! And this is **important so listen up:**_

_ I have the events of the story planned, but if there's anyone out there who really wants to see something happen in the story, let me know in a review/PM. I like new ideas to bounce around and will do my best to include what I can if I can. Have a lovely day, folks!_


	8. Time to Run

_Thank you to all who reviewed. You folks make my week! Happy reading! _

* * *

**7**

**Time to Run**

"GET THEM IN THE WAGONS, _NOW!" _

Kíli shook his head and tightened his grip on Ori and Bofur. The immediate threat of danger seemed to snap him out of the fog that had been clouding his brain for the past few days. A few of the guards were trying to push the clump of slaves into the covered wagons while the rest of the camp led an organized defense against the slew of orcs raiding the camp. Aaron and Petry were nearby, both of them wide-eyed and scared out of their wits.

"Get a move on," a whiskery man growled, shoving them back. Kíli winced as he back made contact with the person behind him. Ori stumbled and lost his grip on Kíli's arm but Bofur kept him firmly in his grasp.

"It's okay Bofur," Kíli panted, "I'm alright. You can let me go."

"Lad, you took seventeen lashes—"

"Seventeen's not that much," the young prince cut in, "You've seen the scars on some of the other captives. It could've been worse."

Bofur looked at him skeptically but let go, lending his free hand to Ori who was still stumbling to gain his footing. He sighed and gave Kíli a final look. "You're still running a fever Kíli," he whispered, "I don't know what's wrong with you, but I think you should get yourself looked at. These mer—"

"NOW'S OUR CHANCE!"

The captives didn't know who shouted it, but it didn't matter. One quick look around told them that half the guards and all the merchants were preoccupied with the orcs. Without a second thought on the matter, Kíli rammed his shoulder into the throat of the whiskery guard beside him, grabbed Ori and Bofur and _ran. _

And they weren't alone.

A retaliation cry rang out and the slaves turned against the few guards that remained. They scattered like ants across the camp, blind to the battle around them. Beside the three dwarves was two girls, one older and one younger, and Aaron.

"Where are we running!?" Bofur shouted.

"Anywhere but here!" Kíli shouted back.

"What about Millí and Gimli!?" Ori cried.

Kíli scanned the blurs of people and orcs around them but saw no sign of his friends. "We have to get out of here," the brunette replied, "We can't help them if we're still in chains!"

They broke through the merchant camp and into the clearing where hours ago they had been drugged and displayed for the scouts. The platform was in shambles as the orcs laid waste to everyone and everything around them.

"Faster! Hurry!"

A sharp cry rang out from the left. Kíli whipped his head around to find Aaron on all fours with an orc axe in his back. The two boys made eye contact a moment before the boy coughed up a lethal amount of blood. Kíli stumbled to a halt, every fiber of his being screaming at him to abandon the boy and keep going, but he couldn't.

"Kíli! Come on!"

"We can't just leave him!"

The orc who threw the axe was coming their way. He was tall and knotted like an old tree that was rotting away. His skin was a grey color and his eyes were bright with the rush of killing.

"Kíli…"

The prince was frozen. Aaron was still coughing, his arms wobbling in the effort to support himself. In the next moment the orc was upon them, reaching down and tearing the axe from the boy's back while paying no regard to the cry of pain the action caused. Aaron's arms shook and collapsed beneath him as the boy whimpered like a kicked dog. Just then an intense rage that Kíli had only recently discovered was inside of him boiled to the surface, strong enough to taste. The orc seemed to enjoy the look and raised his axe to attack, now only a few strides away from the fugitives.

A rock struck the beast between the eyes before he could take another step.

Ori cried out in surprise, his hand still hovering in the air at the end of his throw. Bofur whooped and slapped the young dwarf on the back and Kíli blinked a few times to comprehend what had happened. Ori, little Ori, had actually killed an orc!

But Aaron's gurgled cry for help brought him back to the severity of their situation. Kíli ran to his side and lifted him up at the shoulders. The boy was taller than Kíli would ever be and too heavy and cumbersome for the dwarf to carry.

"Someone help me with him!"

Ori was the first to arrive, getting behind the boy so that Kíli could tip the boy against the dwarf's chest. Poor Ori blanched as the obscene amount of blood from Aaron's wound started the soak into his shirt. Kíli had no time for squeamishness though, and began to grip Aaron's legs. The moment they tried to lift, the boy made a choking sound of panic and his hands flailed drunkenly in the air. He made a second sound, one more urgent.

"Turn him on his side," one of the girls demanded. Kíli hadn't realized that they stayed, but his surprise was short-lived. They did as they were told and the poor boy started to wretch into the grass.

"What do we do?" Ori keened. The battle was still going on and every second they stayed still was another second they could be attacked again. Kíli opened his mouth but in the panic he couldn't find words to say. Aaron quieted and his hand rest on Kíli's arm.

"Y'don know me," he rasped. His voice was weak and tired and suddenly Kíli knew the boy truly wasn't going to make it. "W'not even friends. But if y-get the chance, c-coul'you tell m'mum wha' happened. T'her I didn't a-abandon 'er on purpose."

Kíli tried to keep his face mutual, knowing full well that there was no way he could ever find the boy's mother. He nodded and tried to give him a smile. Aaron seemed to calm and drooped significantly. "Run," he managed to say before shutting his eyes. Kíli gave Ori a nod and the group was off before Aaron had made his last breath.

"Get to the trees and then don't stop until we find a creek," Kíli shouted over the drumming of his heart. "We'll use it to travel after that so that they can't track our footsteps."

_Thank Aul__ë__ for tracking lessons with Dwalin. _

"If any one of us falls again, don't stop running," he added.

The five of them put the ground behind them faster than they ever dreamed. Kíli could feel the adrenaline coursing through him like a drug, making his heart race and his thoughts clear.

_Trees. Get to the trees._

But once again they were not alone. Orcs were beginning to retreat into the trees as well. Kíli could see them in their clumsy armor and knotted limbs, disappearing into the shadows of the forest like cockroaches. Then suddenly one of the girls cried out and Kíli could feel her absence from the group, but he didn't stop running. Then the other girl screamed and was gone as well.

"Stop! STOP!"

A whistling sound, a cry, and a thud. This time Kíli turned and saw Bofur on the ground with a bolas tangled around his legs. Kíli wanted desperately to stop, but the dwarf waved him on. The merchants were running at them and shouting, bearing their weapons in the air.

"C'mon Ori," he panted, using the reserves of his adrenaline to push him forward. Another bolas fell to the grass nearby. An arrow landed in the dirt at their feet. "We're almost th—"

Kíli's head struck the ground before he knew what hit him. One moment the dirt was firmly beneath his feet, and the next it was in his mouth. He looked down to see a bolas wound tightly around his legs and screamed in frustration. Then a small sob alerted him that Ori too had fallen.

"Oh no," his friend cried, tugging at the painfully tight ropes entangling his legs. Kíli stole one more glance at the merchants who were closing the gap between them with alarming speed. There would be no time for them both to get free.

"Here," he said, helping Ori untangle the bolas from his legs. Kíli's own legs were starting to sting, but he ignored them and focused on his task. They quickly realized that the weights at the end were making it impossible to undo the rope.

"Sorry," Kíli grunted, before pulling sharply at each weighted end. Ori yelped as the binds dug deeper into his skin, but suddenly the stones snapped off and they were able to make quick work of the ropes after that.

"Ori, run," Kíli urged, shoving back towards the trees. The men weren't far behind them now; he could hear their voices and footsteps clearer than ever. "Run! Now!"

"What about you?!" the boy whined, stumbling to his feet.

"You can't help us if you're caught too!" Kíli shouted. "I'm sure people are looking for us. Find them, find my uncle, find a damn farmer for all I care! JUST GET OUT OF HERE!"

Ori was crying but obeyed, limping off into the cover of the trees as quickly as he could. Kíli sighed with relief as soon as he saw his friend disappear into the shadows, letting his forehead rest in the grass.

_I was so close._

* * *

"Ori, how on earth id you escape!?" Nori cried, still suffocating his brother in a prolonged vice-like hug.

"Let the boy breath, laddie," Dwalin said impatiently. Nori hesitated, but finally released Ori from his grip. Fíli had his eyes on the trees just in case any of the others came popping out of the forest.

"Are you alone?" Thorin asked, not hiding the urgency in his voice. Ori took a few steadying breaths and nodded with apologetic tears already forming in his eyes. "The others weren't able to get away. T-they made me leave without them."

"It's okay, Ori," his brother cooed, "It's not yo—Durin's beard, is that _your _blood?"

Ori looked down at his chest as if he had forgotten he had one at all. More tears rolled down his cheeks, leaving a faint trail through the dirt. Fíli bit his lip, every moment of silence making him dread the answer.

"No, it's not," he whimpered. "T-there was an attack on the camp b-by orcs, 'nd one of the boys we were escaping with…died 'nd I tried to hel-help but—" The boy's voice hitched and then he was sobbing. Fíli looked helplessly to Thorin, who had ironed his face since the moment Ori had appeared. Brent's jaw tightened and he turned away rather than endure the moment with all the other onlookers.

"I-It's all his," Ori finally said. He calmed himself enough to speak, but he couldn't entirely contain his hiccups and shaky breaths. "Kíli, Bofur, and I were trying to escape with the b-boy Aaron 'nd two other girls. But when th—"

"What about Gimli?" Guinn cut across, "And Millí?"

"They were at another part of the camp…"

This time Brent interrupted. "What did the girls look like? The ones trying to escape with you."

Ori opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't really take notice. One was…older I think. Older than most of us, anyway. And tall—_Ow, _Nori!"

"What?!"

"My finger! You're squeezing me."

"What's wrong with your finger?"

"The slaver b-broke it."

Bifur grunted. "Why would they break your finger?"

"It's nothing, _please _let go of me."

Oin approached, "I should probably look at it laddie."

"Everyone's tall to a dwarf," Brent snapped, "What about the other girl? Do you remember her?"

Nori shot the man a warning look, but the he took no notice. "I d-don't know, I'm sorry," Ori said sadly, "I think she had light hair, like sand. That's all I noticed."

This seemed to touch Brent because he took a few steps forward, much to the displeasure of Nori. Kendrick was the one to put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "It may not have been Aliza. We have no way of knowing."

Brent shrugged him off but steeled his expression. His brother was right, after all.

"Just tell me if she lived," he said finally. "The girl with the light hair."

"She was recaptured with the others," Ori whispered, "But I think she was alive at the time that I left."

Brent clenched his jaw but nodded once before stalking away from the group to burrow his knife into the trunk of a tree.

"So it's possible that Millí and Gimli escaped too, then?" Era asked. Ori looked doubtful but was wracking his brain for something positive to say when Fíli couldn't take it anymore.

"Clearly there's no way he could've known," the prince stepped in. "I hope that they did, but then again, if there was a band of orcs attacking the camp than I think they may be safer in captivity than out in the wild alone and unarmed. Either one's a blessing, so we shouldn't worry for them."

Guinn scoffed and turned away as well to fiddle with the saddlebags on her horse. Era shook her head and rubbed her temples. "Not if they're dead," she muttered.

"They-they wouldn't be dead," Ori told her, "The merchants would've protected them from the orcs."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to lose their deposit," Avery said bitterly. Silence fell on the group then, as everyone tried to ignore Guinn's uneven breaths and sniffles.

"Well," Thorin spoke finally, "At least Ori's with us now." He walked forward and placed a hand on the shaking dwarfling's shoulder. "And what's more, he knows which direction the merchants went. So he can be our guide, can't you lad?"

Ori swallowed and nodded slightly, not daring to refuse.

"Excellent. I'll give you an hour to gather yourself and for the rest of us to prepare. How far behind them would you say we are, Ori?"

"Um…I was wandering about for…two. Maybe three. Uh-two and a half days, I estimate. You're half a day from the sight where we were attacked, but they've moved on by now I'm sure."

Thorin nodded and moved past Ori, walking by the small rescue party with an expressionless face. "We leave in one hour. Be ready."

Fíli watched him go and felt a chill run through him. The whole situation made him feel so incredibly cold.

"Fíli."

The blonde dwarf turned to find Ori standing in front of them. "Ori," he sighed, pulling his friend into a brief but sincere hug, "I'm glad you're back." His shaky companion gave him a weak smile and Fíli couldn't help but feel a wave of pity for him. "You look like you could use some sleep."

That made his friend smile. "So do you." Fíli expected that was the end of the exchange, but Ori stopped him from leaving. "Fíli…Kíli's sick. I don't know with _what_ exactly, but…"

"It's okay Ori, we know," Fíli interjected sadly. "I have a Mallos flower in my pack. Apparently he has Goblin Fever—I know, apparently it isn't just a myth—that's why he was acting so miserably that week after the attack."

Ori nodded slowly and seemed to contemplate that. "It lines up I guess. At the time I escaped, he had been acting really delirious. Confused about everything and really sensitive to touch. He said his bones were hurting him, but we all just thought the fever was making him dramatic." Ori shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I should've known."

"It doesn't matter," Fíli said, "We're going to get him back and then I can give him the medicine that he needs. For now, you get some rest. It won't be long before we're back on the road and tracking down those bastards, all thanks to you my friend."

Fíli smiled and walked away towards his pony. Confused and achy, Ori had said. That's where his brother was, and that was only the first of the five stages. He couldn't help but feel a little relieved.

"_The first will spin you side to side,_

_Fill your bones with ache, _

_In confusion lose your stride,_

_As the flames engulf your hide,_

_And watch your muscles quake."_

* * *

Kíli had a moment of peace before the men caught up entirely. In that moment he took a deep breath and tried to prepare himself for whatever was coming.

"This one's bleeding," someone said.

"Of course he's bleeding you git," the other snapped, "He was freshly whipped today if you don't remember."

"Not my job to keep track."

A hand grabbed at the necklace around Kíli neck and yanked, eliciting a sharp cry from the dwarf as the chain cut off his windpipe.

"Up y'get, scum."

Kíli struggled to slacken the chain, but the man pulled again effectively yanking the dwarf into sitting position while snapping the necklace entirely.

_No! Not that._

"What is this anyway?" the greedy man laughed as he examined the necklace. "It's just a rock. No value to it at all." With that he cast it into the mud and cut the bolas from Kíli's ankles. Then he wrapped his fingers in Kíli's hair and forced him to his feet. "Let's go. And don't try to fight back or I swear I'll kill ya right here. Not in the mood to play games right now."

Kíli complied as the fatigue set into his body. His necklace, the last gift his father had given him and his brother, was now trampled in the mud like it was nothing. It made him want to cry, but he couldn't afford the tears. Not while he had to face his captors again. Not when his friends' lives were at stake.

Bofur and the girl with sand-colored hair soon joined his silent march back to the campsite. The other woman who fell first was dead in the grass not far off with an arrow through her back. The three of them were limping slightly as the sting of the bolas set in to their legs.

_What a mess…_

The entire clearing had been laid to waste. Bodies littered the ground, orcs and merchants alike. And slaves.

"Found three!" one of the men called. They emerged through the short clump of trees and into the small clearing that had been their camp. The organized chaos that was so familiar to Demetrius' crew left the captives amazed once again. They were like bees; replacing, healing, dragging, setting, breaking, and fixing without much speaking at all. Some whistled an upbeat working tune, but for the most part their lips were sealed. Kíli half expected them to start buzzing.

"Two more were dead in the grass," the other man added. Daren was waiting for them with his arms folded over his chest.

"Get them with the others and make sure they can't go anywhere," he said in a cold tone. "Have those who are able help with repairs. I'm putting those three in your charge. If any of them try to escape, put an arrow through their heart. Understand?"

"Aye," they saluted. And soon they were being pushed into a clump of captives with faces full of bruises and disappointment. Gimli was amongst them, looking bewildered and upset.

"Gimli, glad to see you alive," Kíli sighed. "Not so glad to see you here, though."

The ginger dwarf gave him a tight smile and clasped his shoulder. "Same to you," he said. "Do you know what happened to Millí and Ori?"

"Ori got away," the brunette answered proudly, "I saw him myself. As for Millí, I don't know where she is."

Gimli nodded and then let his eyes truly fall on Kíli. "You look awful, Kee."

The prince sighed and nodded, letting his hand rest absent-mindedly over his abdomen. "Truth be told I feel better now than I have in days." Gimli raised an eyebrow at that, clearly not buying it. "No really. Maybe not…physically. But mentally. I feel like my head's finally clear."

Gimli gave him smile that Kíli was quick to return. In reality, his stomach was starting to ache along with his head. A bad, foreboding feeling. The kind of feeling one gets from eating spoiled mutton.

The red-haired dwarf placed his hand on the side of Kíli's neck in a comforting gesture, but pulled away immediately when he felt the heat radiating off of his skin.

"Durin's beard Kíli," he whispered, "You've still got a temperature after all this time."

"Don't worry about me Gimli," he responded, "Let's worry about finding our friend and getting out of here. We can't keep waiting for rescue like we're helpless."

"Alright…Yes. That's what I like to hear."

Kíli nodded encouragingly and allowed Gimli to leave him in search of Millí. He made sure his friend had ventured far into the thick of the captives before giving in to the pain in his stomach. Two quick strides and he was mercifully on the outside of the group, where he promptly threw up anything and everything that was left in his stomach. But it didn't stop when his stomach was empty, no, whatever was making him feel this way kept him keeled over and dry heaving until he was completely out of breath. When it was over it straightened up and wiped his mouth with the most dignity he could manage. One of the guards was eyeing him warily, keeping his shoes a good distance away from the mess Kíli had made in the grass.

"Saw a lot of people die," the dwarf explained nonchalantly before retreating back into the crowd.

"Lad, are you alright?"

Kíli looked up to find Petry, one of the friendly merchants from Kíli's hometown. He had seen Petry in the crowds, but until now neither of them had had a chance to speak.

"I'm find, Petry, thank you for asking."

The man furrowed his brow and let his eyes scan over the dwarf's face and shoulders. "You don't look fine. You look like you're dead on your feet."

Kíli opened his mouth to argue and then stopped himself.

_What's the point? He knows your sick and it's not like you have to hide anything from him. _

"Honestly, Petry?" he relented, "I'm not alright. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'm not alright." Petry tightened his lips and nodded sympathetically. Kíli continued, "But it doesn't matter right now. What matters is that we get away from these…monsters. We've allowed them to keep us docile for too long."

"Kíli…" Petry looked sad, but seemed to rethink what he was going to say. He placed a hand gently on the dwarf's shoulder and gave him a comforting smile. "Of course. Of course we're going to try. But right now you need to get some of your strength back or you'll never be able to do anything."

He turned and grabbed the arm of the sand-colored hair girl that had tried to escape with him. "Aliza, come here a moment please."

The girl turned and Kíli recognized the hollow cheekbones and stern gray eyes that he associated with Brent's family. "What is it, Petry?"

"I need you to take this lad to the river and clean his wounds. Try to bring his fever down if you can."

The girl, Aliza, turned her icy eyes on Kíli and they softened.

"I can take care of myself, Petry," Kíli protested.

"Oh can you?" the man laughed, "In all my days I've never met someone able to fix their own back without help."

_It _would _be difficult to reach all the marks, yes._

"I can help you," she told him. It didn't sound like an offer; more of an order. "I often help the medics when we're on the road."

Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Kíli's arm and started to lead him out of the clump of people.

"And just where do y'think you're going?"

The guard was suddenly in front of them, looking incredulous.

"This boy needs to have his wounds washed out. I'm taking him to the river."

"You'll be doing no such thing."

Aliza raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. Her muscles looked like steel beneath her skin. "Do you know who he is?" she pressed, "He's the archer who impressed the scouts so much at the viewing. If you these wounds fester he'll be dead in two days time. Do you think that Demetrius is going to be pleased if one of his prize possessions dies before you get to the Greyflood?"

The guard looked baffled a moment, but then after relented. "Where I can see you. And if you try to run, I'll put an ar—"

"Arrow through my heart, I know," Aliza rolled her eyes and tugged Kíli forward, "C'mon."

The dwarf prince couldn't help but feel like a child in that moment, being led away by his mother.

_What I wouldn't give for D__í__s to be here right now. _

At Aliza's command, Kíli sat down and allowed her to pour water down his stinging back. Suddenly he felt nauseous again, but managed to hold himself together as she worked the dirt out of the cuts. She tore pieces off of her tattered skirt to use as washcloths, since Kíli's shirt had long since been lost.

_Aulë, my head hurts._

She stopped working on his back and sat down in front of him, scrubbing the dirt off of his face and neck. She let the cold water run down his neck and pressed a cloth to his forehead.

"What's wrong?" she asked, seeing him wince.

"My head," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "I've got the worst headache."

She narrowed her eyes. "What else?"

Kíli winced as an especially intense wave of pain radiated through his skull. "My stomach."

Aliza bit her lip. "Could just be the flu. Those are really common symptoms."

"…Yeah."

His response didn't satisfy the girl. She suddenly took the cloth off his forehead and started to scrub the dirt away from his hands. He closed his eyes to ward off any irritation that the light was causing.

"Oh…well, nevermind about that."

He opened his eyes again to find Aliza rubbing dirt back _on_ his hands. "What are you doing?"

She looked at him with eyes softer than before. "Your nails Kíli. I…" The girl stopped and looked around a moment before leaning in with an urgent look to her face. "Listen to me Kíli. You have Goblin Fever, and you're in the second of five stages."

"Goblin Fever? There's no way."

"Why are the Blue Mountain Southerners always so keen on discrediting Goblin Fever? It's real, look." Aliza held up his hand in front of his face. At first he didn't realize what she was trying to show him, but then he saw it in his nails. A black shadow collecting at the base and stretching for the tips. It was faint enough to be mistaken for dirt, but there was no mistaking it when he hands were clean.

"I…I don't understand."

"You don't need to," she said, taking his hand back and rubbing more dirt onto his skin. "But you can't let the slavers know, do you understand me? You need Mallos to cure Goblin Fever, but these merchants get a fortune for the stuff at the trading festival by the Greyflood. They'll never give any of it to you, even if you are held at high value." She placed both of her hands on the sides of Kíli's face and made him look directly into her eyes.

"They will kill you. They won't help you; they will kill you if they find out. Do you understand?"

Kíli nodded, still not fully comprehending the weight of his new knowledge.

"You said…stage two. What does that mean?"

That was a question he could tell the girl didn't want to answer. "It's out of five," she said carefully, "But I think it's best if I don't tell you what the five stages are. It'll only make it worse if you're anticipating them."

_Oh, thank you. How comforting._

"I'm afraid that these conditions are only going to speed up the infection's process," she confessed. "Some people can fight the illness for weeks, maybe even months. But…under the circumstances I'm not sure if you're body will be strong enough."

"I'm strong," Kíli told her firmly, "I'm not going anywhere."

She looked at him with her sad, cold eyes. "Maybe so, maybe you can hold on long enough to get help. We may be rescued yet. My father would never abandon me with these men, and I'm sure you have family who wants you back as well."

A cold feeling suddenly gripped Kíli's heart. "I'm not sure about that anymore, I'm afraid. Before I was captured, I was acting so horribly. I'm afraid I completely alienated my brother and uncle from me."

Aliza pulled her lips to one side. "It wasn't you, that's how the fever works. It starts by tearing down your most precious relationships so that when you really fall ill, no one will be there to help you. That's why they say it comes from the echo of Sauron himself. It's smarter, more evil than any other illness."

Kíli nodded and tried not to let tears well up in his eyes.

"I miss my brother," he admitted. "I can't believe I may never see him again. Especially when I was such a brute to him."

"I'm sure your family worked out what was going on," Aliza said quickly. "If you're not normally a cad, that is. I'm sure they're coming to get you right now." Kíli tried to smile, but he still felt chilled. Aliza patted his head and started to scrub the cut on his cheek. "Even if they didn't work it out, I'm sure they still love you enough not to abandon you." She rinsed out the cloth and then pressed the cool fabric against his neck.

"That's the thing about the fever, you see, and about Sauron. Always underestimating the strength we find with our loved ones."

-o-

* * *

-o-

_Poor Kili. Don't worry folks, we'll be getting those Durin brothers in each other's sights soon enough._

_Review if you want, I like hearing from you :)_


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